Wrath (A Columbine Story)
by riaurix01
Summary: For a long time Dylan has been intrigued by a girl he only saw a few times a day from a distance. He knew pain and loneliness when he saw it. But what will happen when they finally meet? Can two damaged people fix each other and prevent the unavoidable? Or will it only add fuel to the fire?
1. Ch1: Dull Existence

***Rhea's POV***

Day by day I was more and more convinced that life and everyone who breathed it was worthless. I dwelled in an existence void of meaning just to endure every day the dull and obnoxious existence of everyone around me. I not only felt trapped, but also helpless in my own special place at the bottom of the food chain. I had no friends or people who loved or cared about me. Despite my age, I believed I was one of the most miserable beings in this planet.

Columbine was my special hell. In my Spanish class, we had read a book titled _La Divina Comedia_. In it the author illustrated his journey to hell, which according to him was composed of several layers, the final one bearing the worse tortures for the worse sinners. To me, Columbine was the last layer of my own personal hell. Although instead of bearing only one devil, it harbored hundreds of demons that found fun in tormenting me. It occurred to me that I must have been a terrible sinner in my past life, or perhaps, if a God truly existed, he must have a terrible sense of humor by making me an easy target to natural selection.

I have been in Columbine High School since the start of my freshman year, and since then for some strange reason, my classmates began finding some sick entertainment in making fun of me. I'm now a senior, only months away from graduation, and things really haven't changed that much.

It all began with only a few people from my class who seemed to clearly dislike me, but they had friends and their friends had friends too, so it soon became like a cancer that rapidly spread throughout the school. Not everyone pushed me around though, most simply ignored me completely and made it really obvious when they talked behind my back. There was a group of students, though, that did take their dislike to a more physical level, I guess you could say. And no, they were not only girls, in case you thought only girls bully other girls. There were at least three jocks that have more than once 'accidentally' pushed me against the lockers, or smashed against me when I was walking down the hallway. Most things were immature gestures that simply shouldn't bother me but somehow still did. But sometimes, when they really felt like it, the school could really be a frightening place for me.

At first it were only girls who made fun of me. Jocks began targeting me when one of their girlfriends left them with the petty excuse of having been seen them flirting with me and rumored to like me. I had the slightest feeling that the rumors had been started by someone who disliked me a lot, although the list was too long for me to suspect on who the rumor starter was.

If you are wondering why people even bother on making my life a living hell, you're in the same page as I. I guess sometimes people simply can't stand others for being different. Or maybe it was something personal that began between me and a fellow classmate without me even realizing it. Or maybe I simply had terrible luck. I suspected it was a mixture of all three.

Tomorrow would be another day like all the rest. As I lay in my bed with the lights off, I stared at the ceiling with an incessant headache and a consuming depression. The cuts continued to pierce, a constant reminder of the pain that never waned. The physical pain was never as bad as the pain I felt inside, though. I hated myself for being so miserable. And yet, I was too much of a coward to end my pain.

I awoke to the sound of my alarm. I had to blink several times for my eyes to adjust to the unwelcome light of a new day. During school days I always left my blinds open, knowing that my alarm was usually not enough to get me out of bed, and always regretted it immediately the next morning.

I got up and took a quick bath to completely awaken all my senses. The warm water falling against my skin should've been comforting and relaxing during such a cold morning but the still fresh cuts on my inner thighs and wrists prevented it from filling me with any kind of comfort. Regret never failed to follow self harm, and yet I was never able to resist the urge to inflict myself pain when it came. That's because pain was, in some weird way, like a drug to me. It replaced my inner pain for a while and then merged with it in coexistence. It was a temporary replacement from the pain that stung more than any other kind of pain, yet it was not even close to what I needed to numb it. I knew it was not something that would held, but I didn't know of anything better. That's why, despite the constant regret that followed afterwards, I always ended up doing it again.

I just hoped that I would someday find something that wouldn't only numb the pain, but finally make it go away. I wondered what that something would be. Hopefully, I would find it after graduation.

I put on a blue floral dress that I really liked and my cargo boots. I liked my boots because their practicality. If I ever needed to run, they were perfect for the job. They were good for fighting as well, although I kind of needed to be good at fighting too for it to make a difference. Over my floral dress I put on a jean jacket, and wrist bands to cover up the mess I was inside.

I looked at myself once more in the mirror before deciding with a sarcastic smile that I looked good enough to assist my hell.

"Let's get this day over with," I encouraged myself and headed for my car.


	2. Ch 2: Sealed

*Rhea's POV*

I sat in my car with my hands still clasped on the wheel, staring at the green windows of my _beloved_ school. I was parked in my usual parking space in the parking lot. I always arrived early to school, knowing that it usually took me a while to get the courage to get out of my car, however pathetic that was. The school never looked that crazy at this time of the day, yet it was still scary nonetheless. That's what happened when you had no friends, you never had anything to look forward to at school. Nothing to give me the push I needed to go on with my day. No, not the push I needed, more like the push I wanted. The push I needed was the distant sound of the bell ringing, signaling the start of class and as usual, the fact that I was once again late. I jumped in my seat and quickly got out of my car, running toward the main door without looking back.

As I timidly walked into my English class, I noticed how the teacher no longer bothered to even look at me as I walked in. He was probably already used to me being late, I was no longer even worth the bother to give me a detention.

Today the class looked even fuller than any other day. I was used to seeing at least five seats available from which I could choose from, but today there were only two, and one of them was not even an option for me. If that seat had been the only one available, I would probably have turned around and walked back to my car without a second thought.

The other seat was not the best, either, although I was glad that it was at least at the back of the class. I never liked sitting in the middle or front rows. They made me feel claustrophobic and vulnerable, two things I deeply disliked. What I didn't like was that it was right next to a guy I had seen before but had never once talked to. He was intimidating, perhaps not in the same way jocks were, but nonetheless it made me uncomfortable as I walked toward the seat next to him. I had seen him pick on kids before, and even though he had never picked on me, I was still cautious. The last thing I wanted was to have another asshole make my life harder. He was taller than most jocks, too, and was scary in a dark way. He was usually seen wearing a trench coat and was rumored to being from a so called trench coat mafia. Although to be honest, I preferred his way of dressing to that of most people. Didn't change the fact that it made him more scary looking, though.

As I was walking to my seat, someone put their feet in my path and I nearly fell on my face, if it wasn't for my reflexes that made me grab onto a table. I turned to look at who had done so and found a girl I had never even talked to laughing and looking away from me. Unbelievable, I thought. My cheeks got red and before I knew it I found myself giving her hair a strong tug, which made her scream and everyone's eyes turn to me. I continued to my seat not daring to look back at people's eyes, mentally preparing myself for the teacher's scold. It never came, though. After a moment of silence, he continued with the lesson.

"Stupid teacher, I hate when people feel sorry for that bitch," the girl spat, looking back at me. When our eyes locked, I gave her a taunting smile, which portrayed the courage I knew I didn't have. More than anyone, I was shocked with myself. What had suddenly given me the courage, and what will the consequences be? I guess I was doomed to find out sooner or later.

All the while I was completely conscious of the guy sitting next to me. I had heard his name once before as I walked down the hall, although at that moment I was unable to recall it. I started with a D, that much I knew. It didn't matter much, anyway.

I hadn't been paying much attention to the teacher's lesson until I heard him say the words "Partner with the classmate next to you". My eyes flew to my teacher, wide and panicked. I never liked partner-related school projects and usually managed to convince the teacher to let me do it alone. But my english teacher was different. Only once had I tried to convince him and ended up listening to an after class lecture about my poor social skills. I truly hated him.

"This will be another creative writing project, but this time, I want to see what stories you people come up with as partners. These stories will not be the product of one mind only, but two, and thus I expect them to be extraordinary," the teacher said, looking straight at me, and I could almost hear the warning in his eyes. "And you will not have class time to work on this project, so you better see how you work things out with your partner. It is due this Thursday, and have I mentioned already it is worth 10% of your grade? No? Well, now you know it."

Yeah, I truly, absolutely hated him.

Just as he's done talking the school bell cut through the air and everyone quickly rose to their feet, almost automatically. I remained in my seat, feeling slightly dumbfounded and unable to look at my project partner. He remained seated too, which only made matters worse. If the due date wasn't so close by and my English grade wasn't so low, I would have probably ran away and cared less about the project.

Just as I was getting my courage to look turn to him, my project partner rose to his feet, flung his bag to his back, and left the room without giving me a single glance. I remained seated for a few minutes and felt myself sink into my own pathetic existence.


	3. Ch 3: Lost Highway

***Dylan's POV***

It was always the same shit over and over again. As I walked out of the classroom, I loathed myself and loathed the girl who for so long had caught my attention. I had thought, hoped, wished that she would be different than all the other superficial and judgmental bitches in this stupid school. But I knew that was not the case. Fuck, she was worse than the rest! I could feel her dislike in the air. She didn't even look at me once, and I, doomed timid as I was, didn't find the courage to say a word to her. I had thought that she would be different, the way she pulled that stupid bitch's hair and stood up for herself despite her small frame, it had just made my heart melt. She might be different, but just as all the rest, she would never like someone like me.

I couldn't help but like her, though. Her name, so unique and different, just like her. For months I have only been able to look at her through the distance like a coward, always wanting to approach her and talk to her. So many fantasies, all so unreal. I wished it were as simple for me as it was for the rest. Eric, for instance, had never had the trouble approaching women the way I did. Chad had a girlfriend that loved him, and even though I hated her for distancing him from us, I couldn't help but feel envy. It was only me that had never felt love, only me that would never feel love. I was the only one trapped in the lost highway, only allowed to fantasize about ever getting out.

At lunch I found Reb, Chad and Nate at our usual spot in the cafeteria. I sat with them and pushed Rhea out of my head. After all, I would have all night to overthink my life and get drunk. I pulled out my camera and recorded them as we joked around and talked crap about the shit hole we called our school. At one point Reb said it would be great to shoot the fuck out of everyone in this school, and we all laughed. Only I knew Eric was not fucking around, that it was not just a fantasy. That we would make it happen. We called it NBK, our little judgement day that would take life before graduation. Looking around, I knew I would shoot the hell out of everyone without a second thought. That much wrath I carried inside.

Nate was telling us about how after graduation he would study to work with Microsoft when, at the distance, I saw her walk down the stairs into the cafeteria. My heart immediately stopped and my ears went deaf to my friends' conversation, my full attention landing on her. Never had I seen her before in the commoms, and looking at her I sort of understood why. Rhea looked uncomfortable as she looked around the cafeteria, searching for something. I loved how beautiful she was, and how her shoulder length hair made her look so damn adorable. Her hair was black like a beautiful starless night, and her eyes were a deep brown that sucked you just by looking at you. That's why it pissed me off so much that she always refused to look at me. You know when it's just obvious that someone ignores you or simply avoids looking at you? Well it was like that with her. Only a few times have our eyes met, and even though I could count them with my left hand's fingers, they never failed to haunt me at night.

Rhea's eyes continued to search through the sea of students until they fell on mine, which had been staring at her ever since she arrived.

"Hey, Vodka, what are you looking at?" Reb asked, following my eyes.

"Probably some hot chick," Nate joked.

Eric made some other remark but it flew through me as Rhea smiled at me the most beautiful smile my eyes have ever seen and waved a timid hand. She then turned around and went back up the stairs, and I somehow understood that she wanted me to follow her.

Just then, as I was about to get up, something fell on my head and slid down my right temple. I rose my hand to my face to wipe the creamy thing off the side of my face, and looked at my fingers, finding them smeared with a red substance.

"Hey faggots!" A jock said as he came behind Reb and dropped the same thing over his head, and I finally saw what it was. Tampons. Tampons smeared with what could only be ketchup. I smelled my fingers, hoping that it was only ketchup.

Soon a group of jocks were around us, throwing us tampons, smearing our clothes with ketchup, all the while laughing and calling us faggots. I looked over them into the distance and sure enough there was Rhea, witnessing our humiliation. This was without a doubt the worst day of my life.

 ***Rhea's POV***

When I had first arrived at the commons, I had felt scared and intimidated by the amount of people that gathered there. I usually evaded coming here, always preferring to eat my lunch within the safety of my own car. But this time I wasn't going there to eat, but to look for him. I felt extremely nervous about approaching him and regretted not having done so when he was sitting right next to me. But this project was important to me and the deadline was so close by that I just couldn't coward out. So when I gathered up my courage, I went down the stairs and immediately began looking for him through the crowd.

I finally spotted him and found him already looking at me, which for some reason made me even more nervous. I managed to smile and wave at him and hopefully get the message out that I wanted to speak with him. I thought about walking to his table but saw that he was with friends and couldn't find the courage to do so. So I turned around and hoped that he would follow me.

When I looked back to see if he was following me, my stomach dropped.

"Hey faggots!" I heard the words cut through my ears and I couldn't believe my eyes. Just today I had felt intimidated and even slightly afraid of someone that was being humiliated by the same jocks that have pushed me around before. They were throwing things at them and laughing, and even though I couldn't quite catch what they were throwing, I knew exactly how it made them feel.

I felt rage fill my blood, a rage that I usually only kept to myself and at bay from everyone else. Before I knew it I was striding the cafeteria toward the commotion. The jocks turned to me when they saw me coming, and before they could make some stupid remark, I grabbed a cup of soup from the table, ripped off the lid, and emptied it right on the face of the nearest jock.

"Ah, it's hot!" He screamed, stumbling back against his friends. "What the fuck is wrong with you!"

I looked down at my project partner and saw on the table before him what they had been throwing at them. I almost puked.

"You people disgust me," I spat, looking right into the jock's eyes. I never even cared about learning their names, to me they were all the same. All pathetic, disgusting and worthless. They thought the world turned around them, when in truth it was the entire opposite.

"You stupid bitch," The one to whom I had thrown the soup at said through gritted teeth and stepped toward me. As soon as he did that, I was towered by my project partner.

"Dylan, it's not worth it," one of his friends said, reaching over to grab his arm, but he shook it right off. _Dylan_. How could I ever have forgotten such name.

"Fuck off before I rip your goddamn heads off, you fucking piles of shit."

 **Hey everyone :) I hope you're liking this story so far. Let me know what you thought in the comments and don't forget to vote! I'll be publishing a new chapter daily, I'd love to hear your thoughts. Have a great day!**


	4. Ch 4: Courage

*Rhea's POV*

Just by looking at Dylan, you could easily tell that he was no small person. Standing right behind him, though, I was still taken aback by how much he towered me. With him in front of me, I was completely hidden from the jocks' sight. And even though a part of me knew that he had done this to defend me, a more irrational part of me felt the urge to flight.

"What did you call us, Klebold?" I heard the jock ask, and I knew then that Dylan had failed to intimidate them.

"Common Rick, let's not get into trouble," One of his friends said, looking around for teachers.

"Do you have tampons stuck so far up your ears that you can't hear or are you simply retarded? He called you piles of _shit_ ," a friend of Dylan said when Dylan didn't respond, rising from where he was sitting at the table. He was notably smaller than Dylan and had short brown hair. I had seen him around before as well, he was a senior too.

A moment of heavy silence followed and, if I had thought there had been commotion moments ago, I was about to learn otherwise. It began with Dylan stumbling back hard against me, making me be thrown back to the floor by the sudden impact, and then fists were thrown. I wasn't sure who the first to throw a fist had been, but when I looked up from where I was on the floor, Dylan and his friend were already caught in a fist fight.

"Eric, Dylan!" Their friends rose to their feet and hurried to try to stop the fight.

"Stop the fight right _now_!" An angry voice shouted over the body of students that had gathered around the fight. We all turned to see our Psychology teacher, Mr. Brown, make his was toward where we were, followed by our English teacher, Mr. Adams.

One of the jocks, the taller blond one I had thrown the soup to hadn't had enough, though, as he threw Dylan one last punch to the abdomen, making him curl over as he gasped for air.

"That's it! I want you all at the Principal's office right _now!"_ Mr. Brown ordered, and that's when the fight really stopped. One of Dylan's friends hurried to me and helped me up. Until then I hadn't realized I was still on the floor. Thankfully, as he helped me up, nothing hurt too bad. I wasn't sure if it was the same for Dylan, though. I felt a pang of guilt at not having been able to help more. That's what you get when you're weak. You're the one falling to the ground instead of fighting back.

Dylan looked back at me once, quickly, meeting my eyes only for a fleeting second before walking away with his friend, Eric, and the jocks, but it was enough for me to see the bruise on his left temple and his bloodied lower lip.

The guilt in me kept intensifying as I waited along with Dylan's friends outside of the Principal's office. I had wanted to go inside with them, knowing that I had been the one who had started the fight by provoking the jocks, but one of Dylan's friends had stopped me and told me it was probably better if I waited outside.

"You're Rhea, right? I've seen you around but I don't think we've ever spoken," one of Dylan's friends suddenly broke the silence. "I'm Chad, by the way. And that's my friend Nate."

I looked at him and thought back but couldn't recall ever seeing him or his friend before.

"Yeah, I've seen you guys around too," I lied with a shy smile. For a moment I thought they were going to blame me for what I had gotten their friends into and braced for it.

"That was really brave of you what you did back there," Chad smiled at me, taking me by surprise.

"Yeah dude, it was awesome. I would totally pay to see you do that again," Nate laughed and Chad laughed along with him.

"Although to tell you the truth," Nate added, leaving the joke aside. "I thought you were dead meat when you did that. I don't think Brandon would've cared that you are a girl, he looked _pissed."_ After a pause he added, _"_ Not a surprise, though, I hadn't taken a single sip of my soup because it was so hot. It must have really burned him. If Dylan's hadn't stepped up..."

"Yeah man, it really shocked me what Dylan did, it was completely out of character for him."

I realized they were right. If Dylan hadn't stood up and shielded me from that asshole Rick, only God knew what would've been of me. That hadn't even crossed my mind when I emptied the hot soup on Rick's face. I had been so driven by anger that my brain had been completely clouded.

"What are you of Dylan, anyway? He wouldn't do that for just anyone," Chad asked, and they both looked at me with curiosity.

"I..." I began, surprised to feel myself blushing. Seeing this, both Chad and Nate smiled widely. "No, it's not like that at all! He's just my English project partner!" My blushing intensified. I didn't feel anything for Dylan, but for some reason couldn't stop the blood from flooding my cheeks.

Just then we heard the door open and we all shifted our attention to it. I hoped that the blushing would hurry to leave my cheeks.

Rick was the first to come out, followed by his three jock friends, and I instinctively took a step back. He looked at me once and I could see the threat in his eyes. If he hadn't had a reason to mess with me before, he did now. He was smiling, though, which made me wonder what in the world was going through his head. He did have dry blood in his nose and a slightly bruised lip, and I wondered if it had been Dylan who did that to him.

It took Eric and Dylan a few more minutes to get out, and I deeply hoped that they weren't going to get a suspension or something worse. I didn't know what the penalty for getting into a fight was and hoped they would be let go with a warning.

When they finally walked out of the Principal's office, both Chad and Nate hurried to them to see how they were. I stayed where I was, feeling out of place. These weren't my friends and I was to blame for whatever consequence they got. I decided to walk away quietly before getting their attention. Sure enough, it didn't work.

I felt a hand fall over my shoulder and turned around to see Eric. "Thanks for that," he said.

"I'm sorry, I-"

"Sorry? No man, I mean it. Thanks to you we had the chance to land a fist on those dickheads. You don't know how long we've been wanting to do that," he assured me, smiling like he has just had the best time of his life. Looking at him, he was even more bruised than Dylan.

I shook my head in disbelief. "You guys almost got yourselves killed, yet you enjoyed it."

They all laughed and I narrowed my eyes at them.

We began walking away, not wanting to be close to the Principal's office a second more. As I walked besides them they were laughing and joking about what had happened. I wasn't paying attention, I kept quiet waiting to the perfect moment to escape.

"Hey, Rhea, what are you doing after school?" Chad suddenly asked and I looked at him in surprise. My eyes then met with Dylan's and we both quickly looked away from each other.

"I mean, we're filming a movie for our Theater project. It would be cool if you appeared in it too."

"Sure, she'd play a great hitman, even I wouldn't mess with her," Eric joked and nudged me with his shoulder.

"Hitman?" I asked, confused.

"Or maybe she could play as the damsel in distress and have Dylan save her and-Ouch!" Nate started but then Dylan slapped him over the head.

I was surprised to find myself chuckling. "I would love to, but I can't. My brother needs my car today and will kill me if I don't bring it home on time."

They nodded in understanding and continued talking among each other when Dylan's words cut through the air.

"I wouldn't mind driving you."

We all looked at him in surprise. He wasn't looking at me, and for a moment I almost thought I saw him blush, although it was unclear due to the bruise in his temple.

"Thanks," I said, my eyes on him, and this time he did meet my eyes. I couldn't believe I had once been scared of him. Looking at him now, I realized he was actually a good guy. I wasn't so sure about the Hitman movie, but I knew this was a perfect chance to talk with him about our project.


	5. Ch 5: Friendship

***Rhea's POV***

I couldn't stop playing with my hands as I sat in the back seat of Dylan's black BMW, feeling nervous and out of place. Why he had even offered to drive me was a mystery to me. Probably because of our project, I decided.

Eric sat at the front seat and we were headed to Dylan's home, where they planned to film a part of their hitman movie. Hitman for Hire, I believe it was called. They told me they were almost done with it and that they would later head to the woods with some friends to practice shooting. I had been left dumbfounded at this.

"Sh-shooting?" I asked with a shaky voice.

They both laughed at my reaction.

"Don't worry, we will only be shooting at trees and lifeless targets. Oh and perhaps a squirrel or too," Eric said with a laugh.

Dylan parked his car in front of what must be his house and turned to look at me with a smile. "He's just messing with you, we won't be shooting at any squirrels. Don't worry, it will be fun."

"But I've never even held a gun in my life," I said, feeling more and more nervous by the second. As a matter of fact, I had never even heard the sound of a gun shot before, but they didn't have to know that.

"You'll be the first to shoot then," Eric said with a wink. "Don't worry too much, well show you how it's done. You'll love it."

I sighed. As If that had been the least comforting.

Dylan turned off the engine and got out of his car, followed by Eric. Dylan then hurried to open the door for me before I could reach the handle and smiled as he offered a hand. I looked at him, not having expected him to be as nice as he was being.

I reached a shaky hand at him and hoped deeply that he wouldn't noticed how nervous I felt. As someone who for so many years had had no friends, suddenly hanging out with guys was a huge leap. I don't think I had ever even held a guy's hand before and hoped that didn't show.

Dylan's house was much bigger than mine. As we went inside I was awed at how beautiful it was from the inside as well. I really liked the taste in furniture and colors, it gave the house a feel of home to whomever stepped inside.

We were greeted by a short haired woman, who called for Dylan as soon as she heard the door close.

"Why are you guys home so early-?" She began and then her eyes widened as she had a clear look at her son's ans his friend's faces and stained clothes. "What in the world happened to you guys? Oh my god Dylan your face!"

"Gee thanks mom, it's good to see you too," he said sarcastically, looking noticeably embarrassed.

"Here, let me get you guys something for those bruises and get changed. Oh and please tell me those stains ok your clothes are not blood stains, for God's sake," Dylan's mother moved to inspect his son's clothes and Eric laughed.

"Luckily for us, no. But it wouldn't have surprised me, those assholes are capable of anything..."

Dylan threw his friend a warning look and her mother looked at him, worried.

"What assholes, Dylan?" She asked.

It wasn't until then that Dylan's mother noticed me there, standing awkward only a few steps away from the door. I don't think I've ever seen a more confused woman before.

I smiled at her an awkward smile and stretched my hand at her. "Hello ma'am, it's nice to meet you."

She took my hand without a second thought, "Oh forgive my manners, I really hadn't seen you there. I'm Sue, are you a friend of Dylan's?"

I nodded, although it felt strange to be addressed as his friend. "We're working on an English project together. I'm Rhea."

She nodded and then turned to Dylan, "Would you please answer my questions?"

He sighed, but before he could say anything I interrupted.

"I-It was actually my fault, Mrs. Klebold," I started, looking down. "I carelessly provoked-"

"Some guys were messing with us at school and we got into a little fight," Dylan said quickly, not letting me finish. "Nothing too bad, the Principal only gave us a lunch detention."

Dylan then looked at me with warm eyes. "Rhea actually stood up for us. You should've seen her in action, mom, don't let her size fool you. She put a six foot guy in his place without blinking."

Sue Klebold then looked at me. "Is that true?" She smiled. "Well I'm glad about that. Still, you guys better go clean yourselves while I get you the first aid kit. Rhea, why don't you give me a hand in the kitchen? The spaghetti is almost ready."

I nodded with a smile. "Sure, Mrs. Klebold."

"Oh please, call me Sue. A friend of Dylan's is always family," she smiled and I felt myself blush. I wasn't sure if I could call myself his friend, but for some reason it felt nice.

Both Eric and Dylan went upstairs to clean themselves while I followed Sue Klebold to the kitchen. The kitchen was very spacious, just as the rest of the house. Even though my mother was not a cooking lover, I did like cooking a lot and learned by myself through cooking books that I acquired at the school's library. Sue told me to keep an eye for the spaghetti and chop the vegetables while she looked for the first aid kit.

"I'm very thankful that you helped my son," Sue said as she came back with the first aid kit. "You see, he might be big and scary, but he has a really kind heart. I don't know the full story of what happened at school, but I have the feeling that you gave my Dylan the courage to stand up for himself. I know him, he's not someone who likes to get into fights."

I continued chopping the vegetables while she spoke, not knowing what to say. I already knew that Dylan had prevented the jocks from going after me, but it had never occurred to me that I had actually given him courage. I still couldn't understand how a guy as big as him could get bullied at school. It didn't surprise me that it happened to me, but with him if was a total different story. He didn't belong at the bottom of the food chain as I did.

"With all due respect, Mrs.-Sue, I think your son is braver than you give him credit for. I think he's even braver than he himself thinks."


	6. Ch6: NBK

***Dylan's POV***

I sat in my room, my hair damp from the shower and wearing clean clothes. Despite all the shampoo I had used to clean my hair, the disgusting smell of ketchup was still burnt in my nostrils. If only I would have beat those bastards to a pulp I would've felt much more satisfied. They were definitely on the list of people Reb and I wanted dead, and as Reb and I have already been planning for a month now, we would definitely make them pay someday.

I had mixed feelings going through me. Hate, anger, depression, love, excitement...Could I really call it love? All I knew was that I couldn't for one second get her out of my head, and having her in my own home almost drove me insane. Picturing her kind eyes, the beautiful reddish color that sometimes painted her cheeks, and her soft, melodic voice made everything else go away, if only for a while. Last night I had been breaking my head thinking about the good things I had in my life and held dear that would give my existence some meaning, and although I had listed quite a few, I hadn't felt as though any of those were close to enough. I had wondered what it was that was missing, and I now knew the answer. She, the girl of the beautiful eyes and kind heart, who could easily melt my frozen, rigid heart with a single smile. If only she knew the effect she had over me, she wouldn't be able to believe it herself. I wondered if she would think of me as weird. I wondered what she would think if she ever met the person I truly was.

"You know, Vodka, today I'm even more excited about NBK than ever," Reb said as he came out of the bathroom, towel over his head, wearing the KMDF shirt I had lent him. It was clearly a size too big for him, but it was much better than wearing ketchup-stained clothes. "If it felt so damn good to fight those dickheads with our own hands, just imagine what it will feel like to do it with actual guns. We will be so Godlike, I can already see it."

I nodded, although my attention was divided. I understood what the said and completely agreed, but the thought of her had me busy. Eric noticed it almost immediately.

"What's up with you?" He asked, then seemed to understand. "Oh, common Vodka, don't tell me a girl has shifted your focus. Sure, she's cool and all, but don't lose focus of our plan."

"I haven't lost focus," I argued, although I knew that wasn't completely true. NBK was still highly important to me, though. Especially after today, I wanted those worthless jocks dead and everyone else too. Just as Reb had said, the power had felt too damn good. I too couldn't wait to get more of that power. "NBK will be awesome man. I hope we blow up the school and the heads of at least 200 kids."

"You can bet we will," Reb said, looking through the window. It was nerve wrecking just thinking about it. We could feel the adrenaline run through our blood. "We need more bombs, man. Let's work on them tomorrow in my house. We need bombs that will kill hundreds of people at once, and we need several of them."

"Imagine the pandemonium that will unleash the moment the first detonates," I said, smiling. I could already see it, we would be inside the school with our guns loaded, ready to charge through the halls once we heard the bombs go off and the screams of horror fill the school. For a moment my focus drifted once again and I found myself wondering what Rhea would think of me that day. I would make sure she wouldn't attend school that day one way or another, but she would definitely find out sooner or later. The thought of it momentarily erased the smile off my face, although this time Reb didn't notice.

"Dylan, Eric! The food is ready!" We heard my mom call downstairs and turned to look at the door.

"Make sure she doesn't find out," Reb said as he hurried to put his combat boots on. For a moment I almost thought he meant Rhea but then realized he was talking about my mom.

"She won't," I assured him. "I would be more worried about your parents, though. One look inside your room and you're busted."

Reb laughed. "Nah, man. They never look inside my room. And even if they someday by miracle do, I'm sure I could make them buy into some shitty excuse."

I laughed because I knew he was right. Reb was really good at saying the things people wanted to hear. They would probably never see it coming.


	7. Ch 7: Hitman for Hire

***Rhea's POV***

After we were done eating, I followed Eric and Dylan to the outside of the house, where they would continue filming their movie. I convinced them not to appear in the film and instead just help them out with the video camera. Neither Nate nor Chad had arrived yet, so it was either me or Sue, and I doubted they wanted Sue to film their Hitman movie.

I followed them around the house as they acted out their characters, trying not to chuckle in some parts. I had gotten to see the other parts they had already filmed too and couldn't help but wonder what their teacher would make of it all. Hitman for Hire was the name of their film, and although it was a slightly odd film they had come up with, I found myself actually liking the whole concept and enjoying it as they played their parts. As I filmed each of them shout threats at the camera, I wondered what it would be like to actually hire a hitman. It scared me how much I found myself wishing it were that easy to kill someone. Simply pay somebody else to do the deed and get rid of any cockroaches you wanted. It didn't take much thought to know who I would get rid of.

"Would you guys kill someone for me if I paid you to?" I found myself asking out loud. We had finished recording and were in Dylan's basement. I had been sitting on an old chair when the question had escaped my mouth.

They had both been sitting across from me on some big boxes, looking through what we had filmed, and turned to look at me in surprise.

I expected Eric to say some witty remark, but it was Dylan who spoke next.

"We would do it for free," He said, and as our eyes met, it scared me how truthful he seemed. Even more, it scared me how the thought of it brought along a pleasant feeling.

"Who would you want us to kill?" Eric asked then, and the way he said it you would think he was still playing his character from Hitman for Hire.

I smiled, thinking through my answer. How to pick just one name? And then it hit me with a hint of dark humor.

"Lynn Myers," I said, looking up at them to show them I was serious.

They looked at each other in confusion and then at me, as though seeing if either of them recognized the name.

"Who's that? Is she a senior too?" Eric asked in sincere doubt.

I nodded. " Yeah, she's a senior."

"Her physical description? We're genuinely intrigued."

I thought for a moment. I knew that if I were to give them a physical description it wouldn't take them much to figure out who I was talking about. Not that I thought they would actually kill someone just because I asked them to, but it would be slightly awkward if they figured out who I had just told them I wanted dead.

Looking up, I realized they were still waiting for me to speak.

I laughed. "Forget it, guys. I'm just messing with you. I wouldn't ask anyone to kill her. If anything, I'd do it myself."

The silence that followed made me regret having ever spoken. I worried that they too were now convinced that I was weird, perhaps even crazy.

Just then Dylan's phone broke the heavy silence, making me thank whomever was at the other line. He hurried to answer, and just like that, their attention was off me.

"Hey Chris, what's up," He said and looked at Eric, communicating something with his eyes that I couldn't quite fathom. "Yeah man, what took you guys so long. We'll be right outside in a minute."

As soon as Dylan ended the call they both rose to their feet and hurried up the basement's stairs. Only Dylan stopped on his tracks as soon as he stepped on the first stair, as though suddenly remembering something, and turned to look at me. I was still sitting on the chair, completely dumbfounded.

He walked towards me and extended a hand to me with a warm smile. I looked at it before looking up to meet his eyes. I took his hand and let him help me up, all the while keeping my eyes on his.

"We'll be going to practice shooting now. It'll be fun, you'll see," he assured me, although I was not convinced.

"I really don't know how to shoot," I told him, feeling nervous. I couldn't imagine myself holding an actual gun. My father had one with him, but since I was little he has always made it clear that I should never hold one myself.

"I'll show you," He said. "You'll see that once you get a hold of it, you won't want to stop shooting."

I laughed, and it wasn't until then that I realized that I was still holding his hand, and tight. The realization sent tingles up my spine, I let go of his hand instantly. He didn't seem to mind.

"Alright," I said, looking away from his eyes. I could feel warmth fill my cheeks and wholeheartedly hoped that he wouldn't notice. When I looked up again, he was still smiling down at me.

We heard voices upstairs, which most likely were Eric and Dylan's friends.

"Let's go," Dylan told me and I nodded. As we went upstairs we found Chad, Nate and Eric along with three other people I didn't recognize chatting at Dylan's living room. I walked behind Dylan as we approached them, feeling annoyingly uneasy as I usually did when meeting new people or hanging around people all together. It was not hard to tell that I wasn't a people's person.

They all turned their eyes at us as we joined them. I stayed behind Dylan, hating the moment I agreed to do this.


	8. Ch 8: Warmth

*Rhea's POV*

"Hey Dylan, who's your new girlfriend?" Someone joked. I couldn't see who had just spoken, but whomever it was had just gotten me to hate his guts.

"Rhea!" I heard Chad call to me and saw him stand up from where he was seated and make his way to me. He pulled me from behind Dylan and held me under his arm in a side hug. Although I liked Chad, I found myself wanting to kick his ass.

"She's the best shooter in town," He let everyone know as he pulled me tighter. I tried to elbow him but didn't manage to even make him flinch. "She's also known for intimidating jocks at school, isn't that right, Rhea?"

I rolled my eyes and everyone laughed. I looked at Dylan in a plea of help, but found him laughing too. Great.

"Are you truly good at shooting?" The same guy that had first spoken asked. He was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. Now that I looked at him I found that he was actually slightly similar to Dylan. He wore his long hair in a ponytail, although his hair was much more curly than Dylan's. He was just as tall, though.

"If I were, Chad wouldn't be so easy around me," I found myself joking, and Chad looked down at me in feigned fear.

"Was that a threat?" He laughed and pinched my cheek. I threw a warning look at him. "I'm telling you guys, be careful around this girl. She might be small, but I wouldn't be around her with a gun."

"Alright, give Rhea a break," Dylan said, pulling me gently from under Chad's arm to his side. Although I felt grateful for it, I was not used to Dylan's touch. In some way it was different from Chad's. Warm and gentle, as though he was careful not to be too rough. I didn't like it. It somehow clogged up my mind and confused my senses. It was not like me to feel that way.

"Let's get going," Eric said, rising from the couch. "Did you get everything, Mike?"

"Sure did," Mike answered, getting up too. "It's all at the back of Bryan's truck. Let's get moving, it'll be at least a thirty minute ride, without traffic, that is."

We all went outside to where the two cars we would ride were parked. One of them was Dylan's black BMW. Dylan opened the back door and motioned for me to get in. I did and he followed in and sat next to me, followed by Eric and then Chad. Nate got in the passenger's seat and Mike behind the wheel.

As we sat in the backseat, we were all pressed against each other due to the small space available. My leg was pressed against Dylan's and my arm against his, and although everyone was chatting and laughing as we drove away from Dylan's house, all of my senses were completely aware of him. My hands were sweating because of the nerves that kept me tense in my seat, and I knew that my face was as red as a tomato. I kept my eyes on the window in an attempt to conceal it, finding myself hoping for the tenth time today that Dylan wouldn't notice.

I swore to myself that I was never doing this again.

When we reached the main highway, we realized it wasn't our lucky day today. The traffic was slightly heavy due to the bad timing, and although that wouldn't have mattered much to me any other day, I found it mentally harrowing that I wouldn't get out of that car for the next hour or so. Hopefully it would only be an hour, as I had no idea where we were headed to. I had to be craziest girl alive to drive with a bunch of guys I had just met to a place I had never been to and without letting any of my relatives know about it. I already knew there were guns involved, which only made matters worse. It occurred to me I had never been this suicidal before.

As time went by, I began to feel drowsy despite my best intentions to stay awake. It wasn't until my head fell against Dylan's shoulder that I kicked myself awake and looked at him in apology. He wasn't looking at me, though, as his eyes were glued forward to the front of the car, almost as though he hadn't noticed me having rested my head against him. I thanked God for that and continued to look through the window, my eyes growing heavy by the second.

Warmth. If I could describe the feeling that engulfed me with a single word it would be warmth; a warmth that made my mind feel as though it were floating in space, completely apart from my body and everything that had once surrounded it. The warmth was unfamiliar but welcoming, something I hadn't felt before. The warmth held me in place and caressed my hair, it made me feel dead and alive at the same time.

I opened my eyes slowly as a soft sound called my name. Was it the warmth calling to me? I wondered as my eyes adjusted to reality. It was then that I looked up and saw Dylan's face close to mine, his warm hand resting lightly on my shoulder, my head still resting against him. That's when I froze, and the warmth that had once engulfed me turned into panic.

"I'm sorry!" I jumped and hit my head against the car's door. My hand flew to the back of my head as I pressed an eye in pain. "Fuck."

"Are you okay?" Dylan asked. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

I looked at him and felt my stomach sink. I couldn't remember when I had fallen asleep, let alone against him. I noticed everyone was already outside, looking inside the other car's trunk and pulling things out from it.

"No, it's okay," I assured him with a nervous laugh. "I really didn't notice when I fell asleep, sorry about that."

Dylan laughed. "Don't worry about it. Common, let's go grab a gun and do some shooting."

I gulped and followed him outside, unable to believe what I was about to do.


	9. Ch 9: Euphoria

*Rhea's POV*

"Hey Dylan, who's your new girlfriend?" Someone joked. I couldn't see who had just spoken, but whomever it was had just gotten me to hate his guts.

"Rhea!" I heard Chad call to me and saw him stand up from where he was seated and make his way to me. He pulled me from behind Dylan and held me under his arm in a side hug. Although I liked Chad, I found myself wanting to kick his ass.

"She's the best shooter in town," He let everyone know as he pulled me tighter. I tried to elbow him but didn't manage to even make him flinch. "She's also known for intimidating jocks at school, isn't that right, Rhea?"

I rolled my eyes and everyone laughed. I looked at Dylan in a plea of help, but found him laughing too. Great.

"Are you truly good at shooting?" The same guy that had first spoken asked. He was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. Now that I looked at him I found that he was actually slightly similar to Dylan. He wore his long hair in a ponytail, although his hair was much more curly than Dylan's. He was just as tall, though.

"If I were, Chad wouldn't be so easy around me," I found myself joking, and Chad looked down at me in feigned fear.

"Was that a threat?" He laughed and pinched my cheek. I threw a warning look at him. "I'm telling you guys, be careful around this girl. She might be small, but I wouldn't be around her with a gun."

"Alright, give Rhea a break," Dylan said, pulling me gently from under Chad's arm to his side. Although I felt grateful for it, I was not used to Dylan's touch. In some way it was different from Chad's. Warm and gentle, as though he was careful not to be too rough. I didn't like it. It somehow clogged up my mind and confused my senses. It was not like me to feel that way.

"Let's get going," Eric said, rising from the couch. "Did you get everything, Mike?"

"Sure did," Mike answered, getting up too. "It's all at the back of Bryan's truck. Let's get moving, it'll be at least a thirty minute ride, without traffic, that is."

We all went outside to where the two cars we would ride were parked. One of them was Dylan's black BMW. Dylan opened the back door and motioned for me to get in. I did and he followed in and sat next to me, followed by Eric and then Chad. Nate got in the passenger's seat and Mike behind the wheel.

As we sat in the backseat, we were all pressed against each other due to the small space available. My leg was pressed against Dylan's and my arm against his, and although everyone was chatting and laughing as we drove away from Dylan's house, all of my senses were completely aware of him. My hands were sweating because of the nerves that kept me tense in my seat, and I knew that my face was as red as a tomato. I kept my eyes on the window in an attempt to conceal it, finding myself hoping for the tenth time today that Dylan wouldn't notice.

I swore to myself that I was never doing this again.

When we reached the main highway, we realized it wasn't our lucky day today. The traffic was slightly heavy due to the bad timing, and although that wouldn't have mattered much to me any other day, I found it mentally harrowing that I wouldn't get out of that car for the next hour or so. Hopefully it would only be an hour, as I had no idea where we were headed to. I had to be craziest girl alive to drive with a bunch of guys I had just met to a place I had never been to and without letting any of my relatives know about it. I already knew there were guns involved, which only made matters worse. It occurred to me I had never been this suicidal before.

As time went by, I began to feel drowsy despite my best intentions to stay awake. It wasn't until my head fell against Dylan's shoulder that I kicked myself awake and looked at him in apology. He wasn't looking at me, though, as his eyes were glued forward to the front of the car, almost as though he hadn't noticed me having rested my head against him. I thanked God for that and continued to look through the window, my eyes growing heavy by the second.

Warmth. If I could describe the feeling that engulfed me with a single word it would be warmth; a warmth that made my mind feel as though it were floating in space, completely apart from my body and everything that had once surrounded it. The warmth was unfamiliar but welcoming, something I hadn't felt before. The warmth held me in place and caressed my hair, it made me feel dead and alive at the same time.

I opened my eyes slowly as a soft sound called my name. Was it the warmth calling to me? I wondered as my eyes adjusted to reality. It was then that I looked up and saw Dylan's face close to mine, his warm hand resting lightly on my shoulder, my head still resting against him. That's when I froze, and the warmth that had once engulfed me turned into panic.

"I'm sorry!" I jumped and hit my head against the car's door. My hand flew to the back of my head as I pressed an eye in pain. "Fuck."

"Are you okay?" Dylan asked. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

I looked at him and felt my stomach sink. I couldn't remember when I had fallen asleep, let alone against him. I noticed everyone was already outside, looking inside the other car's trunk and pulling things out from it.

"No, it's okay," I assured him with a nervous laugh. "I really didn't notice when I fell asleep, sorry about that."

Dylan laughed. "Don't worry about it. Common, let's go grab a gun and do some shooting."

I gulped and followed him outside, unable to believe what I was about to do.


	10. Ch 10: Walk

***Rhea's POV***

We walked in silence for a while, and I couldn't help but wonder what was going through Dylan's head. It occurred to me he was most likely wondering the same about me.

At the distance we could still hear the sound of gunshots resonate through the trees. The sound was no longer as horrifying as it had first been. Hearing it now, it brought back a hint of the feeling of exhilaration that had filled my veins when I held the shotgun in my hands. It was a feeling I could easily get drunk on.

I walked next to Dylan with my hands behind my back, once again feeling nervous and slightly shy. I hated feeling that way, though it was inevitable as I was still not used to being around a guy. A day ago I wouldn't have believed this day would come to be if my life depended on it. I wouldn't have even thought myself capable of speaking to Dylan or any other guy for that matter, let alone be walking alone with him in the woods, away from everyone else. I no longer thought of him as dangerous, though. Having spent the day with him made me realize that he was the complete opposite of that. Although I still couldn't really say I liked being around him, as he somehow still made me feel uneasy. If it weren't because I had been paired with him for our English project, I, without a doubt, wouldn't be here now.

"Did you have fun?" Dylan once again was the first one to break the silence. His voice sounded nervous, too. I found it strange to think that he could possibly feel nervous around me and dismissed the thought as a misunderstanding.

"Strangely, I did," I said, smiling. "I have to admit I was at first hesitant about coming here with you guys, but I'm actually glad I did." As I looked at him and met his eyes, I felt something strange turn in my belly and quickly looked away.

"Is that so," Dylan said, and he almost sounded relieved as he spoke.

"You surprised me when you started shooting after I helped you with your first shot," he admitted. "I thought the recoils were going to dislocate your shoulder."

As he said that, I realized I was feeling sort of sore on the shoulder. My arms, too, felt heavy and exhausted, and the cold wind didn't do much to help. I didn't let him know that, though. Last thing I wanted was for him to think of me as a weakling. I hugged myself in the hope that I would retain some heat.

Dylan then looked down at me and I could almost feel him furrow his eyebrows as he eyed me. I kept my eyes forward, though, feeling way too self conscious to meet his gaze. It wasn't until I felt something heavy be placed over my shoulders that I turned to him in surprise.

I looked down at Dylan's trench coat, which I now wore over my shoulders. It fell all the way down to my feet, which was really not a surprise as Dylan was clearly much bigger than me and his clothes would obviously oversize me as well, especially his trench coat.

"Hey, this really isn't necessary," I said, looking up at him. "You shouldn't freeze because of me, and anyway I don't want to get your trench coat dirty."

"Don't worry about it," He said, smiling, and then proceeded to put his black cap over my head. "Hey, who would've said it, the look fits you really good."

I laughed and pushed him lightly. "Oh now you're just making fun of me." I then tried to put the cap back on him, standing on my tiptoes and jumping to gain more altitude, but failed terribly as he was too tall for me to reach. He laughed too and I couldn't help but notice how less menacing he looked when he smiled. Just as I gave up he took the cap and put it back on me, this time backwards.

"It looks better on you," He told me, still laughing, and I narrowed my eyes at him but then couldn't resist to smile.

"I like you," I said without thinking, and Dylan's smile vanished almost instantly. As soon as I realized what I had just said, my cheeks went on fire and panic filled my entire body.

"I didn't mean it that way!" I said quickly and then looked away, feeling utterly embarrassed. We had long stopped walking and were facing each other. It wasn't until that moment that I realized how close to each other we were, and took a quick step back.

"What I meant is that I think you're cool," I looked down shyly, wanting the earth to swallow me whole. I forced myself to look up at him and smile in an attempt to ease the horrible mood I had created. "I'm just glad I was partnered with you."

"Speaking of which," I changed subject before he could say anything, "I have been wanting to ask when we could work on our English project. I'm free tomorrow if we don't have time today."

"Oh, right," he said, raising his hand to scratch the back of his head. "We could work on it today if you want. I don't have anything important to do after this."

"Me neither," I smiled.


	11. Ch 11: Darkness

***Rhea's POV***

Back at Dylan's, I found myself feeling nervous again. Everyone had left already, while I was sitting uncomfortably in Dylan's living room, waiting for him to come back with the glass of juice he had offered. I fidgeted with my thumbs, hoping that the kitchen would somehow swallow him into another dimension, or me-it didn't really matter.

My shoulder had started to get more sore by the minute and my arms heavier. I was beginning to regret having shot so many times in my first time, although if I were handed a gun right now, I'd probably do it again.

Dylan returned with two glasses of lemonade in his hands. As he walked to me, he didn't meet my eyes. He placed my glass of lemonade on the table in front of me and then went to sit across from me, and although it probably wasn't his intention, it felt as though he was putting as much distance between us as possible. I couldn't really complain.

Dylan was no longer wearing his trench coat and his black cap. Looking at him it occurred to me that he wasn't bad looking at all. Sure, he didn't have the looks that most girls at school liked, but then again my tase in men was slightly different to theirs. I preferred men with strong features, long hair, and a unique way of dressing. I didn't usually like blond hair, but Dylan's was a kind of blond that did look good to me. It was not to say that I felt attracted to him, but it didn't kill to note that I did find him attractive. That was as far as I would go, though.

"Thanks," I said, taking my glass of lemonade in my hands. It was cold, but it somehow felt good under my touch. "I haven't told you before, but I really like your house."

He looked at me and smiled. "Thanks. I didn't get to see yours."

I laughed. "There's no much to see. It's really small, a guy like you wouldn't feel comfortable in such small space."

"It didn't look that small from the outside," he said and then, looking into my eyes, he added, "And anyway, I don't mind small."

I dropped my eyes immediately and felt my cheeks heat up.

"So," I said, quickly changing the subject. "Should we get started? I guess we could brainstorm a little before starting writing. I really haven't thought about what our creative writing paper will be about."

Dylan looked behind him and then at me. "Sure, no problem. One thing, though, you wouldn't mind working in my room, would you?"

"What?" I asked in disbelief. "Of course I would mind! What kind of girl do you think I am?" My cheeks were now completely heated. There was no way that I would allow myself to be in his room all alone with him. That would be psychological and emotional suicide for me.

Dylan's index finger flew up to his mouth. "I didn't mean it that way," He told me, his eyes apologetic. "It's just that my parent's room is downstairs and my mom hates noise at night."

"Oh," I said, feeling stupid. Still, it didn't change the fact that I deeply disliked the idea of going to his room. Although, I had to admit, there was part of me that was slightly curious to see what his room looked like. Which is probably why I agreed. "Alright, but try something and I'll scream."

Dylan laughed. "I won't, don't worry."

Dylan turned off all the lights downstairs and lead me upstairs. Just as I took the first step, we heard Sue's voice break the silence.

"Dyl?" She called from inside her room. Dylan went tense and turned around. "Come to my room please."

"Go upstairs to my room," He whispered to me. "I'll be there in a minute."

I gulped and nodded. I then swirled around and realized he was facing me. I couldn't see his face clearly because of the darkness, but I somehow knew he was looking at me too. I found it funny how, even though I was one step from the floor, he still clearly towered me.

"Dylan," his mother called again, this time louder.

"Go," He whisper and then turned around and walked to his parent's room. I stood there alone in the darkness a few seconds more before quietly heading upstairs, into Dylan's room.


	12. Ch12: Pain

***Rhea's POV***

As I closed the door behind me, my eyes immediately scanned around Dylan's room. His room was definitely wider than mine, which I liked. However, it didn't have too much furniture other than a desk with a computer and an mp3, a wooden closet, and his bed. Across from me was a window with red curtains. I walked to it and, moving aside the red fabric and opening the window, took a glimpse outside. Rain fell from the dark, cloudy sky, loud and harsh, and cold air immediately filled Dylan's room. My mind travelled all the way to my house, where my mother was probably laying alone in bed, not aware of my absence. I wondered how my life would've been different without my mother's depression on the picture, and I wondered if that would've been possible if only my father had been more loving to her. I realized I had no idea what the roots of her depression were, just as much as she had no idea what the roots of my depression was, or that I was depressed altogether. I wondered if she self harmed herself just as much as I did, or if she simply managed to escape through her antidepressants. Under the sleeves of my jacket, I could feel the wounds of my cuts ache, and a funny thought crossed my mind. Having always felt distant from my mother, unable to understand her, it was suddenly ironic to think that the one thing that connected us was the pain and loneliness. It was sad to feel connected to someone through that.

It wasn't until I heard the door open and close behind me that I realized tears had begun to drop from my eyes. Scared to be seen, I quickly wiped the tears from my eyes with my sleeve, but they wouldn't stop flowing. I didn't allow myself to turn around to face Dylan, although I was utterly aware of his presence. I heard his footsteps get closer until I felt him stand behind me.

"Are you okay?" He asked as I wiped the last tears from my cheeks. I finally managed to turn around and, not having noticed how close behind me he was, collided into him, resulting in me losing my balance and falling back.

When I opened my eyes again, I realized Dylan held me inches away from the open window, his left arm wrapped tightly around my waist. My hand was clasping his shirt, and as I looked behind me, I realized how close I had been to falling through the window. I looked up into his eyes and grabbed him tighter by the shirt.

For a moment I almost thought he wasn't going to let me go, but he seemed to come back to his senses and helped me back up to my feet, moving me away from the window and shutting it.

"Thanks..." I said, standing awkwardly with my arms wrapped around me. I hadn't realize how cold the room had gotten and wondered how long I had been standing at the window before Dylan had come.

"That was really close," he sighed in relief. "I'm glad I grabbed you just in time."

"Yeah," I laughed, although it was more of a nervous laugh.

"Are you okay?," Dylan asked again, and I hadn't noticed my eyes were still a little watery. "I know it's probably none of my business, but if you need someone to talk with I'm a good listener."

I thought about it for a second. Was I able to confide my thoughts and pain to a stranger that would most likely only judge me? I wasn't too sure, nor did I knew if it would somehow help. Although I had to admit there was a part of me that died to speak.

"You're bleeding," Dylan suddenly said and quickly grabbed my right arm and rolled up my sleeve. As soon as he grabbed my arm, I winced from the pain. he dropped my arm gently and looked up at me in confusion.

"I'm gonna take off your jacket," He told me, looking into my eyes closely in case I protested. I didn't, and felt my body freeze completely as he gently removed my jean jacket and revealed my skin. I wasn't used to having my arms exposed for obvious reasons. At that moment, I felt immensely self-conscious and in a way naked under Dylan's eyes.

Dylan was quiet for a moment as he looked at me. All the while, I kept my eyes on his chest, unable to meet his eyes. I felt embarrassed and scared that he would think of me badly. It probably shouldn't matter tome what he thought of me, but at that moment it did matter. And I hated it.

"Here," he said softly, placing a gentle hand over my back and leading me to his bed. He motioned for me to sit and I did. I looked up to meet his eyes, feeling slightly dumbfounded. "I'll go get my mother's kit, stay put and don't touch your bruise."

Dylan gave me a reassuring smile and the left the room, leaving me feeling confused. _Bruise?_ Was he referring to my cuts? It then hit me and I stood up in a jolt. I walked to Dylan's bathroom, which was right outside his room, turned on the light and gasped at the sight of my reflection in the mirror.

"Holy fuck," I said with wide eyes as I saw the purple bruise on my right shoulder where I had held the shotgun. It was like nothing I had ever seen on myself. I remembered a few years ago when I fell as I was running up the stairs and hit my face right with the edge of a stair, leaving a purple bruise on my temple the next day. That bruise, however, was nothing compared to the large dark purple bruise that had formed over my shoulder. While I had been feeling sore all afternoon, looking at the purple bruise on my shoulder suddenly intensified the pain. But more than pain, I suddenly felt anger at how weak my body was. Only a few shots and my body was already past its limits.

Pathetic.

Out of pure anger, I placed my knuckles over my bruise and pressed as hard as I could, swallowing a scream and bitting my inner lip until I tasted blood.


	13. Ch 13: Lost Highway

***Dylan's POV***

It was always the same shit over and over again. As I walked out of the classroom, I loathed myself and loathed the girl who for so long had caught my attention. I had thought, hoped, wished that she would be different than all the other superficial and judgmental bitches in this stupid school. But I knew that was not the case. Fuck, she was worse than the rest! I could feel her dislike in the air. She didn't even look at me once, and I, doomed timid as I was, didn't find the courage to say a word to her. I had thought that she would be different, the way she pulled that stupid bitch's hair and stood up for herself despite her small frame, it had just made my heart melt. She might be different, but just as all the rest, she would never like someone like me.

I couldn't help but like her, though. Her name, so unique and different, just like her. For months I have only been able to look at her through the distance like a coward, always wanting to approach her and talk to her. So many fantasies, all so unreal. I wished it were as simple for me as it was for the rest. Eric, for instance, had never had the trouble approaching women the way I did. Chad had a girlfriend that loved him, and even though I hated her for distancing him from us, I couldn't help but feel envy. It was only me that had never felt love, only me that would never feel love. I was the only one trapped in the lost highway, only allowed to fantasize about ever getting out.

At lunch I found Reb, Chad and Nate at our usual spot in the cafeteria. I sat with them and pushed Rhea out of my head. After all, I would have all night to overthink my life and get drunk. I pulled out my camera and recorded them as we joked around and talked crap about the shit hole we called our school. At one point Reb said it would be great to shoot the fuck out of everyone in this school, and we all laughed. Only I knew Eric was not fucking around, that it was not just a fantasy. That we would make it happen. We called it NBK, our little judgement day that would take life before graduation. Looking around, I knew I would shoot the hell out of everyone without a second thought. That much wrath I carried inside.

Nate was telling us about how after graduation he would study to work with Microsoft when, at the distance, I saw her walk down the stairs into the cafeteria. My heart immediately stopped and my ears went deaf to my friends' conversation, my full attention landing on her. Never had I seen her before in the commoms, and looking at her I sort of understood why. Rhea looked uncomfortable as she looked around the cafeteria, searching for something. I loved how beautiful she was, and how her shoulder length hair made her look so damn adorable. Her hair was black like a beautiful starless night, and her eyes were a deep brown that sucked you just by looking at you. That's why it pissed me off so much that she always refused to look at me. You know when it's just obvious that someone ignores you or simply avoids looking at you? Well it was like that with her. Only a few times have our eyes met, and even though I could count them with my left hand's fingers, they never failed to haunt me at night.

Rhea's eyes continued to search through the sea of students until they fell on mine, which had been staring at her ever since she arrived.

"Hey, Vodka, what are you looking at?" Reb asked, following my eyes.

"Probably some hot chick," Nate joked.

Eric made some other remark but it flew through me as Rhea smiled at me the most beautiful smile my eyes have ever seen and waved a timid hand. She then turned around and went back up the stairs, and I somehow understood that she wanted me to follow her.

Just then, as I was about to get up, something fell on my head and slid down my right temple. I rose my hand to my face to wipe the creamy thing off the side of my face, and looked at my fingers, finding them smeared with a red substance.

"Hey faggots!" A jock said as he came behind Reb and dropped the same thing over his head, and I finally saw what it was. Tampons. Tampons smeared with what could only be ketchup. I smelled my fingers, hoping that it was only ketchup.

Soon a group of jocks were around us, throwing us tampons, smearing our clothes with ketchup, all the while laughing and calling us faggots. I looked over them into the distance and sure enough there was Rhea, witnessing our humiliation. This was without a doubt the worst day of my life.

 ***Rhea's POV***

When I had first arrived at the commons, I had felt scared and intimidated by the amount of people that gathered there. I usually evaded coming here, always preferring to eat my lunch within the safety of my own car. But this time I wasn't going there to eat, but to look for him. I felt extremely nervous about approaching him and regretted not having done so when he was sitting right next to me. But this project was important to me and the deadline was so close by that I just couldn't coward out. So when I gathered up my courage, I went down the stairs and immediately began looking for him through the crowd.

I finally spotted him and found him already looking at me, which for some reason made me even more nervous. I managed to smile and wave at him and hopefully get the message out that I wanted to speak with him. I thought about walking to his table but saw that he was with friends and couldn't find the courage to do so. So I turned around and hoped that he would follow me.

When I looked back to see if he was following me, my stomach dropped.

"Hey faggots!" I heard the words cut through my ears and I couldn't believe my eyes. Just today I had felt intimidated and even slightly afraid of someone that was being humiliated by the same jocks that have pushed me around before. They were throwing things at them and laughing, and even though I couldn't quite catch what they were throwing, I knew exactly how it made them feel.

I felt rage fill my blood, a rage that I usually only kept to myself and at bay from everyone else. Before I knew it I was striding the cafeteria toward the commotion. The jocks turned to me when they saw me coming, and before they could make some stupid remark, I grabbed a cup of soup from the table, ripped off the lid, and emptied it right on the face of the nearest jock.

"Ah, it's hot!" He screamed, stumbling back against his friends. "What the fuck is wrong with you!"

I looked down at my project partner and saw on the table before him what they had been throwing at them. I almost puked.

"You people disgust me," I spat, looking right into the jock's eyes. I never even cared about learning their names, to me they were all the same. All pathetic, disgusting and worthless. They thought the world turned around them, when in truth it was the entire opposite.

"You stupid bitch," The one to whom I had thrown the soup at said through gritted teeth and stepped toward me. As soon as he did that, I was towered by my project partner.

"Dylan, it's not worth it," one of his friends said, reaching over to grab his arm, but he shook it right off. _Dylan_. How could I ever have forgotten such name.

"Fuck off before I rip your goddamn heads off, you fucking piles of shit."

 **Hey everyone :) I hope you're liking this story so far. Let me know what you thought in the comments and don't forget to vote! I'll be publishing a new chapter frequently, I'd love to hear your thoughts. Have a great day!**


	14. Ch 14: Understood

***Rhea's POV***

Before Dylan returned, I went back to his room and sat on his bed, my shoulder aching even more than before. The anger had passed, which was normal after inflicting myself pain. Taking my anger out on myself was my best and favorite anger management method. It replaced anger, sadness, hate, loneliness, you name it. If you ever felt any of those you'd understand how physical pain is always the best medication. The best drug. The best escape. The only downside was that once you self-harmed, you're doomed to hiding a pain that would've otherwise been invisible to everyone else. As I waited for Dylan, I had already made sure the blood from my most recent cut had been cleaned and was out of sight.

Dylan came back with his mother's first aid kit in hand. He closed the door behind him and sat next to me on the bed, which, stupidly enough, made me feel slightly uneasy. He took out a small blue bottle and took off its lid. He smudged a cotton ball with the white creamy substance from the bottle and began applying it to my bruised shoulder. I immediately felt a cold, relieving sensation travel through my arm and sighed in relief.

Dylan smiled. "It's really good, isn't it? My mother used to always apply this to me whenever I got bruised when I was little."

I looked at him and wondered what he must have looked like when he was little. It was hard to imagine him carrying the innocence of a child. I couldn't help but smile.

"That must have been nice," I said. "You have a really loving mother."

Dylan nodded. "She's really kind. I sometimes think I don't deserve the kind mother she is."

I thought about that for a moment and wondered if I somehow deserved the mother life had given me. It occurred to me that, just as with everything else, it was all about luck.

"What's your mother like?" He suddenly asked, making me jump a little. I met his eyes for a second and then looked away. Why he even cared to ask such a trivial question was beyond me.

"The kind of mother that would let her daughter be late at night in some guy's room," I attempted to joke, although it came out more coldly than I had intended to. I looked at Dylan to see if he had taken my remark badly but he didn't seem the least bothered.

"That doesn't sound too bad," He said in a neutral tone. I raised an eyebrow at him, surprised at his response. "Sometimes it's better for everyone when you're not too close to the people you love."

"Maybe," I said, although I wasn't too sure what he meant. "But it only adds to your loneliness, you know. It doesn't matter how alone you are, you're never truly alone until your own family turns their back on you."

"That's not entirely true," Dylan said. His eyes were no longer on me. Instead, they were fixated on his wooden closet, as though it somehow held something meaningful to him. "You can be surrounded by friends, family, and wealth and yet feel like the loneliest man on Earth."

I waited for him to elaborate but he didn't. Instead, he continued treating my shoulder.

"What could possibly be missing then, if you've got all of that?" I asked, and I too wondered if my loneliness wouldn't go away even if I had loving parents and friends. It was sad to think of oneself as bound to sorrow and loneliness.

Dylan met my eyes and for a moment, it was almost as though time had stopped. In his eyes I saw something I had never seen in anyone else's before. I felt unable to put a finger on what that was, though, despite how much I wanted to. I could see the pain in his eyes and the loneliness he had spoken about. But that wasn't hard for me to recognize, as it was something I could easily find in myself without the need of much introspection and was used to seeing in my my mother's eyes everyday. But there was something else in his eyes, something that pulled me in and filled me with warmth. How could something so soothing be found in the midst of pain? How could someone I had only met today make me feel something like that?

"You shouldn't do that to yourself," Dylan spoke all of a sudden, making me jump. He reached for my arm and turned it in his hands to expose the cuts that had for so long marked my skin. Some were fresh, others were mere scars of pain, and they were all now exposed for Dylan to judge. I pulled my arm from him and reached for my jean jacket. Before I could put it on, though, Dylan grabbed my wrist.

"What do you care?" I spat, feeling a bit too defensive. "Judge all you want, just don't pretende to understand. There's nothing I hate more than hypocrisy."

Just then, Dylan took off his black fingerless gloves and exposed his wrist for me to see. I could immediately tell that his cuts were deeper and fiercer than mine, the cuts of someone not afraid to die, maybe even suicidal. Not that I had never been suicidal, but there was always a part of me that stopped me from cutting too deep.

Without thinking, I reached and softly touched Dylan's scars with the tips of my fingers, making him tense up. After a moment, however, his body relaxed. I traced them with my fingers, lightly and slowly, and then looked up to meet his eyes.

"You shouldn't do this to yourself," I repeated his words at him, although they now felt different than before. This wasn't a guy who would judge me the way everyone else did. He was someone who understood, and I understood his pain too, or at least a small part of it.


	15. Ch 15: Thoughts

***Rhea's POV***

"Dude, I love this song!" I smiled widely as Marilyn Manson's Long Hard Road out of Hell filled the room. After having spent at least two hours on our creative writing assignment, I was now resting on Dylan's bed, with his mp3 in hand. He was sitting on a chair by the computer, his arms folded over the back rest, looking at me as I skimmed through his music. We had gotten into the subject of music and had been talking about the kind of music we enjoyed listening to. I told him I was really into 50's to 70's music since I loved the rhythm of the songs, but liked several bands of the 80's as well. He told me he liked identifying with the lyrics of the songs he listened to, and when I asked which bands he listened to, he handed me his mp3. As looked through his music, I recognized several of the bands and songs he listened to and found others completely novel. Overall, though, I could tell we had a similar taste in music.

"You listen to Marilyn Manson?" He asked in surprise.

I sat back up and reached for my backpack, fishing for my mp3 which I always carried with me. I had bought it last year after a few months of working as a waitress at _. It had been my priority and one of my most precious possessions because of the beautiful escape from reality music always had to offer me. When I found it, I tossed it at Dylan and he caught it. "I've heard most of his songs. He's one of my favorites. Why so surprised?"

Dylan didn't respond immediately, as he was busy looking through my songs. He then hit play and I paused Marilyn Manson's song, curious as to which song he had chosen.

 _Hey Pig_ , Trent Reznor's voice cut through the air, along with the mesmerizing beat of drums. Dylan's eyes flew up to mine. I had seen that song on his mp3 as well.

"NIN too?" He asked, now more in awe than surprise. I felt my cheeks heat up under his eyes. Why I was suddenly feeling embarrassed was a mystery to me. Sure, no one had ever looked through my music, but it wasn't like I had a bad taste in music, or at least I didn't think I did.

"I..." I started, scratching my cheek. "Yeah. My brother won 2 tickets for the A Night of Nothing tour back in 1996 and he took me with him as a birthday present. Since then, I'm a fan of both Marilyn and NIN."

"That most have been awesome," Dylan smiled. "What is your take on the Chemical Brothers?"

I thought for a second. I had heard that name before from my brother, although I couldn't say I was familiar with them.

"I haven't really heard their songs," I admitted. "Any recommendations?"

Dylan smiled and stretched his hand to me, motioning for his mp3. I tossed it to him and he looked through his playlist until he found the song he was looking for and hit play. The song began with the sound of a bass. I instantly liked the song.

"What's the name of the song?" I asked, genuinely interested.

"Life is Sweet" He replied, tossing me back his mp3. It bounced from my hands as I failed to catch it, and I let out a squeal as it fell to the floor. Dylan laughed and hurried to pick it up for me, this time carefully handing it to me.

I checked that the mp3 still worked and sighed in relief. "Sorry about that."

"Don't fret about it," He assured me. "You should hear their songs and let me know what you think about them. Maybe then..."

I looked up at him from the mp3. He wasn't looking at me anymore.

"Maybe then what?" I pressed, confused. He then met my eyes and seemed to gather courage.

"The Chemical Brothers will be playing here in Colorado this July," He said, his eyes scrutinizing me carefully. "Maybe we could go together, if you want."

If it wasn't for the song which was still playing in the background, the room would've been completely silent at that moment. I stared at Dylan in doubt, trying to figure out if he was messing with me with some sick joke, or if he was really serious about us going to a concert together. Could he be asking me on a date? We were still four months away from July, so I decided he was probably just being friendly.

"Maybe," I finally responded, forcing a smile. "I'll listen to their songs tonight."

As I said this, something occurred to me. I took out my phone and looked at the time, my eyes widening as I saw how late it was. I looked up at Dylan in horror.

"It's past midnight!" I said, jumping up to my feet. "Oh I'm so sorry, I really don't know how I lost track of time. This has never happened to me before, I swear."

I hurried to pack my things up and grabbed my jacket. I put it on carefully, finding the pain on my shoulder almost unbearable. It hadn't been all this time, which only went to show how distracted I had been with our conversation.

"I'll drive you home then," Dylan said, getting up to his feet. He then offered to carry my backpack for me, and I handed it to him only because of how tired my arms were.

"You really don't have to," I said, feeling embarrassed. "I'll call my brother and he'll come pick me up. I don't want to keep you awake any longer."

As I began dialing my brother's number, Dylan placed a hand over my phone to prevent me to continue dialing. I looked up at him.

"Hey, I really don't mind," He assured me, his voice slightly nervous. "Besides, I'm not even tired yet."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Your mom will kill you if you go out this late," I pointed out. "Your mom's not like mine. I bet she would freak out if she knew I was still here."

"She will kill me if I don't make sure you get home safely," he retorted. "And anyway, she's a light sleeper. She'll find out you're still here as soon as you walk down the stairs."

I hesitated for a moment and looked at him in doubt. I still couldn't believe this day and found it even harder to believe that Dylan would take the trouble to drive me all the way to my house at this time of the night. Still, waking up my brother didn't sound like the brightest idea. Only god knew the lecture he would give me.

"Thanks," I finally said and put away my phone. "I really owe you one."

Dylan smiled, and if I didn't know better, I would've thought he looked happy that I agreed. He shushed me with his finger and motioned me to follow him. I did as quietly as I could, hoping with my heart that his mother wouldn't wake up. The thought of what would happen if she did was too embarrassing and terrifying to bear. Midway down the stairs, though, I found out Dylan had been correct about his mother.

"Dyl?" Sue poked her head from her room. When she saw us at the stairs she turned on the light, closed the door from her room and walked to the end of the stairs with her arms folded over her chest.

"Hi Sue," I said, my voice shaky with nerves. I looked up at Dylan, hoping that he would take over.

Dylan noticed this and smiled as though he was actually able to find humor on the situation.

"Dylan Klebold, would you tell me what you guys are doing this late at night?" His mother asked, her voice quiet yet angry nonetheless.

"We just finished with our assignment and I'm now taking Rhea home," He said simply, although the smile was now gone from his mouth.

"This late?" She pressed, looking at me. I avoided her eyes, and I was sure my entire face was colored a bright red to the though of what might be crossing her mind.

"These things take time, I guess," Dylan responded.

"Well maybe you two should've thought about that before leaving the entire afternoon. What will your parents think, Rhea? I'm not doing any apologizing this time."

At the mention of my parents, I felt my blood go cold. I finally met her eyes and felt something I could only call envy go through my veins. I couldn't imagine my mother ever scolding me the way Sue was doing at that moment, and I almost wished she was my mother.

"They won't care," I said coldly before I could stop myself from speaking. Just then, I saw Sue's features soften and when I spotted a hint of pity in her eyes, I lost it.

"I'm really sorry for all the trouble and for waking you up at this time of the night, Mrs. Klebold," I apologized and grabbed my backpack from Dylan's hands, swinging it over my bruised shoulder by accident and bitting my tongue to keep myself from screaming. "My brother will be here at any moment, I'll go wait for him outside. Thanks for having me over."

Before Dylan could stop me, I hurried to the door and made my way outside.


	16. Ch 16: Strength

***Rhea's POV***

I waited by Dylan's car around five to ten minutes when I decided I was better off just walking home. The cold wind of Littleton made my blood curl, although it was a nice distraction from the pain in my shoulder. At that time of the night, I knew that walking home from this distance was practically suicidal. It wasn't that out of the usual for me, though. It had only been last year that I had stopped taking my nightly walks whenever my insomnia kicked in. The only difference was that, whenever I took those walks, I always carried a knife with me. As a matter of fact, there had been a time when I always took a knife with me wherever I went, whether it was school, the mall, or work. I stopped taking it with me when the thought of actually hurting the people I disliked began to surge as a temptation in me. Although I was starting to miss those days. Even though it wasn't the kind of weapon that guaranteed to save your life when needed, it provided some sense of power and security that I otherwise lacked empty handed. At that moment, as I walked down the dark, cold streets of Littleton, I wished I at least had my knife with me.

As I walked with my hands in my jacket's pockets, my head was bombarded with endless thoughts and memories. Some bad, some good, and others neither good nor bad, simply strange. I thought about my family, my brother who I deeply loved despite his anger issues, my mother who I missed, and my father who never understood. I thought about Barnie, my dead white labrador, who's company had always made me feel at ease. I had liked him specially since he had always been the kind of dog that simply didn't seem to need a leash. He always followed me around, the same way a little duck does when he imprints on you. My brother used to laugh and say that he must've had an invisible leash attached to me. That had always made me smile.

Barnie had an unusual story behind his name, and one that could also explain why he always followed me around. I had found Barnie at a local pet adoption center, where I got to witness and aid in the birth of six labrador puppies. They were nearly at closing hour at the pet adoption center when I arrived. There had solely been one girl a few years older than me cleaning the place. After chatting with her for a few minutes, we both noticed something wrong with a white pregnant Labrador. She instantly understood what was happening, while I simply stood there dumbfounded. It turned out that the labrador was having difficulty giving birth, and that was when the girl called for me in desperation. Luckily, though, we both managed to successfully aid the labrador as she delivered the six labrador puppies. Long story short, I got to choose a puppy for myself and I of course went for the sole white labrador puppy. 5 weeks later, a tiny Barnie was sleeping in my room by my bed.

A weeks after Barnie had arrived at my house, one of the worst fights between my brother and I unleashed. I couldn't even remember how the fight started, and I have reasons to believe that my brother had simply been at his highest peak with his anger issues and I simply had had the misfortune of angering him at the wrong time. I hadn't known about his anger issues back then, however, or else I wouldn't have ever provoked him. That day, as the rage in him increased, he pushed me hard against a wall and then stormed to my room as I had a tough time getting back up to my feet. When I saw him come out from my room with Barnie in his hands, however, my stomach fell to the floor and could no longer feel the pain from the blow. I pushed myself up to my feet and followed him to the basement, where he had locked himself inside with Barnie still in his possession. Out of desperation, I slammed myself several times against the old wooden door, completely disregarding the pain, until it finally broke open. When I saw my brother dropping Barnie into a bucket of purple paint, I lost it and threw my knife at him, which I hadn't even thought of using until then. Although I missed, my brother didn't lose any time in getting the hell away from me and I didn't lose any time in getting Barnie out of the bucket of paint. I remember naming him Barnie after he spent several days with his fur dyed a fading light purple. Barnie had never left my side after then, somehow getting a sense of security from being at my side and away from my brother. Although my brother never laid a finger on him after that, Barnie simply didn't seem to get past the trauma.

Barnie died three years later. He also died the last time I took a walk at midnight because of my insomnia. We were walking on the pavement close to the road, and at one point Barnie stepped over the asphalt right when a drunk driver raced through the streets, taking my dog's life and a part of me with him. A year had passed and although I had sworn to myself I wouldn't ever get myself a dog again, I was starting to miss having one.

As a red BMW drove past me, my mind wandered to a tall guy with long blond hair and strong features. I was taken aback when his blue eyes invaded my mind as I remembered how he had looked at me when he asked me to go with him to the The Chemical Brother's concert. I mentally slapped myself and reminded myself that I wasn't supposed to think about him in that way. I didn't like him. I didn't like being around him. And I wasn't planning on going to any concert with him. Although as I kept on walking, I couldn't help but think about him. I wondered if Dylan was still having a hard time with his mother or if he had noticed by now that I had already left. I wondered what he had thought about me after today, if he had liked me or if he had found me strange. I damned myself for even thinking about those things.

Ahead of me, I saw the dark figures of two men emerging from around a curve, and my hands immediately began to sweat. Just as I was beginning to mentally prepare myself about fighting back with all my might in case the two men decided to attack, I heard a car's engine stop behind me. I swirled around to find a black BMW parked behind me in the middle of the road, and I knew it could only be one person.

Without a second thought, I raced to the BMW and slid into the passenger's seat, letting a sigh escape my lips as soon as I closed the door behind me. I turned to Dylan, thinking that he was going to be angry, but his eyes were glued to the two men at the distance. I looked at them too and noticed that they were now laughing and talking to each other. I couldn't help but wonder what they were talking about, and if they had had bad intentions toward me. It then occurred to me that I would've found out if Dylan hadn't showed up just in time.


	17. Ch 17: Hidden

***Rhea's POV***

"Go inside, Rhea," Brandon ordered, motioning with his chin to the open closed door of our house. I looked at him in disbelief. Did he really believe I was going to leave him with Dylan?

"Are you crazy?" I asked with a humorless laugh. "Who do you think you are, Brandon, my father?" I then turned to Dylan, who was still standing behind me. "Go home Dylan, I'm sorry about my brother. He can be a true jerk when he wants to."

Dylan looked at me swiftly and then back at my brother. Looking at them, it was incredible how they carried the same blank expression. Although I found my brother easier to read than Dylan.

"I might not be your father, but at least I'm someone who gives a crap about you. Now go inside before I drag you there myself." My brother spoke without taking his eyes off Dylan. I knew my brother disliked him from just looking at him. I knew his reasons were superficial, and I hated that. I hated how judgmental my brother was being. Still, I had never expected him to react this way even if he did see me arrive this late. I had thought that I'd arrive home unnoticed. Even though I knew my brother cared about me, I had never before realized the extent to it. He was right, he was the only one who gave a crap about me in my house. Whether my parents had heard us already, it probably wouldn't change the fact that I wouldn't see their faces until the next day. Still, it didn't change the fact that he was being an asshole.

"Well you better start dragging me there yourself, cause-"

"Rhea, it's fine. You can go, I'll see you tomorrow at school," Dylan said dully, cutting me off. I turned to look at him in disbelief and was surprised to see he was serious. I then turned to my brother.

"Do something stupid," I warned him, looking at my brother straight in the eye, "And I'll break your nose. I don't give a crap that you're my brother." I could feel Dylan's eyes on the back of my neck. And just like that, I did what I never thought I'd ever do. I swirled around and, stepping over my tiptoes, I wrapped my arms around Dylan's neck and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. I could immediately feel him tense up, and as I released him, I felt my legs tremble beneath me. Without meeting his eyes, I turned away and walked to my house, slamming my bruised shoulder against my brother as I passed by him as a reminder of my threat. Once inside, I closed the door behind me and collapsed against it, taking a deep breath.

In my room, I dropped my backpack next to the door and hurried to my window, hoping that I wouldn't find something horrifying once I looked through it. Luckily, however, I saw my brother and Dylan still with a comfortable distance between each other. They seemed to be talking about something, and I only wished I could somehow hear what they were saying. My brother had his arms crossed over his chest and Dylan was leaning against his car, looking at my brother as he spoke. I tried to look at Dylan through my brother's eyes. 6'4 tall guy with long blond hair and a black trench coat that screamed trouble that had just dropped his little sister past midnight at his house after not hearing about her for the entire afternoon. After having looked at my phone, I had realized I actually had ten missed calls from my brother that I hadn't noticed before. I could only imagine what was going through his head, and wondered how in the world he was controlling himself so well. I just hoped it stayed that way.

They spoke for another fifteen minutes and finally ended their conversation with a warm handshake. It wasn't until then that I realized that Dylan was actually chuckling and my brother no longer had his arms crossed over their chest. I stared at them in confusion. What in the world had happened between them? What could Dylan have possibly said to my brother to give him such a change in attitude.

I saw Dylan look up toward my room and quickly released the blinds, although not quickly enough to avoid meeting his eyes. I went to my bed and laid down over my back, staring blankly at the ceiling. I remembered kissing Dylan on the cheek with a piercing pang of regret. Even though I had done it at the time to convince my brother that Dylan was really a friend, I was starting to realize how stupid I had been. I wasn't sure I was going to be able to see his face without my own face falling off. I was starting to really hate myself for not thinking things through before digging myself deep into a hole.

Today had been long and tiring, but more than that it had been thoroughly confusing. Things I had never felt before were beginning to surge within me, but before I could put a name on them, a part of me pulled them back into oblivion. I knew I was in denial but was unaware of what. My head was overflown with endless thoughts and images. A pair of blue eyes tattooed at the back of my mind that kept taunting me with thoughts I couldn't quite grasp. The sound of gun shots cutting through the air like sharp razors that left empty, inexistent echoes in my ears. Radom faces of people I knew and disliked popping up behind my lids. Feelings of connection and warmth standing next to disruptive feelings of power and ire. Again those blue eyes, but this time accompanied by a warm, unwinding smile. I closed my eyes, feeling overwhelmed with everything. I wanted to shout at my brain to just shut up.

I had been too deeply lost in thought to notice my brother entering my room until I felt him weigh down on my bed as he sat next to my head. He gently caressed my hair and my eyes flew open as I looked up at him. The contrast between his tender strokes and my piercing thoughts was eminent. Somehow, he finally managed to make them melt away, and although I knew I should've been pissed, I was actually thankful that he had come. His eyes were tired with prominent lack of sleep. It now occurred to me that he had probably stayed up all night waiting for me. I couldn't help but wonder what time it was. Las time I had seen, it was nearly two o'clock.

"Are you still angry?" He asked, his voice now soft. He kept stroking my hair, which he knew I loved. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply.

"Are you?" I asked back, and opened my eyes again when he didn't answer right away. "Brandon, why now?" I asked, and I knew he knew what I was talking about.

He sighed and looked at me with pained eyes. "I've been having too much in my mind, Rhea. Not just now, but for a very long time...ever since I can had remember, perhaps. And despite that, I've always cared about you. It's just..." He paused and looked away, and I knew he was having a hard time getting it all out. I just looked at him. "I've been through hell and back, Rhea. Fuck, I've been through worse than hell. I've held so mucha rage and pain in me all this years, and I never understood why. It's almost as though I was condemned by someone before I was even born. I've done drugs, self harmed, attempted..."

I sat up and placed his hand, which was now balled into a tight fist, in between mine, stroking it lightly with my thumb. He looked at me and I could see tears emerge from the corners of his eyes. I had never before seen my brother cry. It not only came as a shock, but also as a piercing stab. Although I already knew he used to have anger issues, I never understood the extent of them. Worse than that, from what he was telling me, I was beginning to realize he was still not over with his anger. And as he spoke, I could see that random bursts of tantrum was not the final result of his anger. I felt my stomach turn as he pronounced the next words.

"Suicide," he said, looking down. "I've really attempted it only once or twice, but it's been a recurring thought that has invaded my life. It's you I have to thank for not actually going through with it, though."

"Brand-" I began, but he cut me off.

"I mean it. And today I've realized how much I've turned my back on you. I don't know what you go through, Rhea. But I know you've felt alone. I know it because I've felt that way too. And I hate to think that you might also be in pain. If our parents won't give you the love and care you deserve, then I'll do my best to do it myself."

As I heard my brother speak, I felt speechless. Brandon had never before opened up so much to me, and a part of me felt guilty that I wasn't able to do the same for him.

"Are you still doing drugs?" I asked, feeling worried about everything he had told me.

He shook his head. "I haven't in all week. I decided that I couldn't take care of you if I couldn't even take care of myself. Also, I've been doing really bad in my classes and I know it's because of it. So I'm quitting."

I nodded, feeling relieved. "I...I'm sorry for what I said before. I shouldn't have threatened you."

He laughed. "That was a threat?" I smiled and pushed him playfully. "Common Rhea, you wouldn't kill a fly if you had a gun."

I felt something cold run through me as he said that, and just like that, the faces popped into my head again and the echo of a gun shot blasted through my ears, making me flinch. I wondered too if I would be able to cause someone harm if I had gun in my hands.

"I almost forgot," Brandon said, suddenly fishing through his jeans' pockets and pulling out a small blue bottle, which I immediately recognized. "Your friend asked me to give this to you. He said you should put some on tomorrow before going to school." He paused. "I must admit he seems like a nice guy, but I still don't want to you be with him so late at night. Also, it makes me uneasy the way he dresses."

I rolled my eyes and grabbed the bottle from him. People often failed to understand that in reality, those with the nicest clothes were the ones to worry about. Although I knew it was always easier for them to think wrongly of those who stood out as different.


	18. Ch 18: DOOM

p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="4bef849ce9bcf46dbad34a9d019d4ac3"span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: bold;"*Dylan's POV*/span/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="3ec5fc99cea0f69c2c51ef5b93b424b6""Shoot that motherfucker."/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="26bc3f938e1a1ff7105115f3995687f8"We were in Reb's room, playing Doom after a long day at our shit hole high school. Around twenty of our handmade CO2 bombs and pipe bombs were scattered on the floor. We had been making them for months now and had a few more left to make in preparation to our upcoming little judgement day. Neither of Eric's parents were home and weren't supposed to be arriving for another four to five hours. And even if they did, we were confident that they wouldn't be coming into Eric's room, so much that we didn't even bother on locking the door. This was something we often found quite a sick humor in. How, if only they did as much as open the door once, they'd have a major chance of finding their son with a bunch of homemade bombs laying flat on his floor, on his bed, or at plain sight on his desk. Reb'd be fucked. Hell I'd be fucked too. But deceiving people right under their noses was Reb's biggest pride, and what made things more exciting to both of us./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="1bf0f74ce6b3b3168173d239a4dab1c5"My head was not at it's sanest today. I felt distracted in a way I'd never before felt. Even Doom was not enough to take my mind off everything. It was usually like a drug to me, strong enough to drown my head with it's crude images of flesh and blood and a feeling of power that I could only wish I had in real life. Hanging around Reb often had the same effect, which was why I enjoyed it so much. Together, we turned our misery and pain into wrath and destruction. Together, we felt godlike, utterly detached from our frail human bodies. But today, I was as human as I could get, wrapped like a helpless worm around the finger of a girl who apparently enjoyed playing with my head./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="32385fcf01bcc10ce8d59cb6def778d8""Give me that," Reb pushed me aside as he took control of the keyboard. "The fuck is wrong with you today, dude. Those bastards've got your life halfway down and it's only the third level." Reb shook his head in disappointment and continued shooting at every demon in sight, his eyes lit with burning fire. "Man I love Toxin Refinery. Now where the fuck was that secret exit again..."/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="7121dd91fad4479a9d25f6a411a32c47""Past that staircase to the left,"I told him, barely paying any attention. I have always been good at remembering maps and paths. The way Doom was mapped would appear to most as a maze, and as you moved through the episodes, the maps got more and more complex. The first maps were pretty simple to me, though, which was why I barely ever dwelled in them. I liked complicated things, not something I could tattoo into my memory at first glance. Which was probably one of the reasons why I felt so captivated by Rhea. While it had at first merely been plain captivation and curiosity, it was now much more than that. After having spent an entire night talking with her, I felt more deeply drawn into her than I ever thought possible. The way her mind worked, the way she spoke, and most importantly, the way we connected was simply overwhelming to me. I had never before felt for anyone else the way I felt for her. I wanted to spend more time with her, get to know her better. I wanted to indulge myself into her natural beauty and sweet scent. I wanted to see her smile and hear her laugh. But, for some reason, she no longer seemed to want anything to do with me./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="cbff95b8c4e280ef83b20a3c5e7469cd"I had arrived at Columbine today with a different mind set than most days, not giving a single fuck about all the trash that usually made me hate the school. From the very moment I stepped inside the school, my eyes scoured through the halls, searching for her. Yet, as I walked through the school, Rhea was nowhere in sight. Lunch time arrived and I still hadn't seen anything from her. I asked Reb as we walked to our Calculus classroom for our lunch detention if he had seen her around, and he looked at me with a smirk./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="bb411557d5a9f61cdeae84b8e02754c7""Don't tell me she's got you all em style="box-sizing: border-box;"head over heels /emin love," He said mockingly. "At least tell me you two fucked last night."/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="869cafdbeb41c6bd8132b86a555d666c""Shut up," I said and then neither of us spoke as we entered the classroom. Sure enough, our Calculus teacher was already there waiting for style="box-sizing: border-box;" Fucker should be shot/em, I could almost hear Eric say, and I agreed. If I ever see him during NBK, I'll be the first to blow his brains./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="d8500a96148224df4c5206ce95ab79fe""Well, who would've thought you two'd be so punctual," Mr. Thomas said as he saw us walk in. "Take a seat, but please don't feel too at home." Without a word to him, we sat at the back of the room and began waiting for lunch to be over. At one point Eric looked at me and made a shooting motion with his hand at a reading Mr. Thomas./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="170656b221931aae4b2000e35dacaf00"After lunch, I gave up on seeing Rhea. It occurred to me that she probably didn't even come to school today, perhaps because of her recoil bruise. As the last period of the day arrived, I walked into our Psychology class along with Eric and Chris. And as soon as I walked in, I spotted her by the teacher's desk, talking with him. My heart immediately began beating like raving drums./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="a0a72e1a9129b63721fb3da619766db5"Rhea looked beautiful with her hands behind her back as she looked down at a paper our teacher was showing her. She had her hair up in a cute ponytail and was wearing a black L7 t-shirt, light blue jeans, and black boots. One of the things I'd liked most about her was her good taste in music. I'd been thinking about introducing her to KMFDM and Rammstein, although I wasn't sure if she'd like german music. I hoped she would./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="87aec63533300207e69de773b209bc37"As I approached her, her eyes moved up to mine. Seeing me, she quickly wrapped up what she was talking about with the teacher, grabbed the paper, and hurried back to her seat, not meeting my eyes as she passed by me. The bell rang and I went to sit by Eric, trying not to think much about it. Nonetheless, I couldn't help but notice that she was avoiding me./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="26b4133ab895c224a81e05995a70bddb""Doom at my place?" Reb turned around on his seat as I sat on the table behind him at the back of the room. Rhea was sitting at the other side of the room, also at the back. She was reading the paper she had been talking about with the teacher, seeming immersed in it. I looked at her swiftly, failing to catch her eye./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="156aa7b73c56d137a53eea9528f8c6ef""Common Vodka, don't lose your head over a girl, you're not like that," Reb said as he noticed me looking at Rhea. Although I had denied it, Eric knew me well enough to see that I wasn't as indifferent to Rhea as I pretended to be. He usually didn't comment about it, as he had his own girls to worry about, but today I was showing myself too distracted./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="50e08a85e3b3301b339536e955aae3bb""No way, man," I said, looking at him and brushing Rhea off my mind. "Fuck yeah, Doom it is. Will your parents be home? Maybe we can build some of our stuff."/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="0174de5d9a4788c87b4f1b66d3851b07"Reb smiled. Now I was the friend he knew. "We can build them even if they are home. But no, they won't be home, so maybe we can even blow one off somewhere near."/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="0526963a6728da304f43d19a29163807""Too bad we can't blow one here," I joked, looking around./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="2a345f9838ba4f5b61312e5968bfbff4""We will, don't worry."/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="9ffb30cca984c50ae5a5f40ebec0ffb0"Class started and all the while I couldn't pay attention. I drew Doom's double barreled super shot gun on my notebook over and over again, thinking about NBK, when the teacher spoke something that caught my attention./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="801c574252a59f2f8109617333350d2b""Ms. Myers will be presenting an essay she wrote for us today," Mr. Brown spoke, making me look up to the mention of Rhea's last name. I looked at her as she stood up shyly and walked to the front of the room. "Just so you all know, if any of you wants any extra points, which I know most of you need, you can do as Ms. Myers and write an essay on a topic of your choice. It's five extra points per essay, so you guys better start writing."/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="976a16ae157a0b0861fadf11b134fa17""Of course that freak needs extra points," Becky commented louder than necessary. "I bet she needs extra points in all of her classes."/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="050649a6a60f5a16fa9deae30ec47d82"Rhea didn't react despite having clearly heard. I looked ad Becky from the corner of my eye with disgust and then back at Rhea. For a second, our eyes met, but she quickly dropped them to the paper in her hands. I noticed her hands were trembling lightly./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="739446149a1279172a274a816f375d19"We all waited in silence for her to speak./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="e550cf254572a91d608041911d6aba0a""The mind of a Killer." She looked up and for a moment she looked at Becky straight in the eye, making her flinch./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="56c9027ca79950ee8754fff654bf7b8a""You cannot have the power of good without having the power of evil in a harmonious coexistence. A mother's milk nourishes a brutal murderer with the same love as it does to a hero. For centuries, scientists have looked into the minds of mass murderers, serial killers, em style="box-sizing: border-box;"evil/em men and women who overjoy in the blood shedding of em style="box-sizing: border-box;"innocent/em people. Unanswered questions, what drives the demons of a murderer over the edge? Is a murderer born, or is he created? Look around you, don't you think there might just be a growing murderer here with you? Now do some introspection, are you truly innocent?"/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="dd254387016667bf4cf9d84e780a2ce9"The room was completely silent as Rhea spoke, and all I could think of was how incredibly wonderful she was. I listened to her words, the way they pierced through the silence and sent shivers down the spines of those who tormented her day by day. Here you had a girl who hated your guts talking about murder with the confidence of someone who feared no man. Her hands were no longer shaking. She was no longer fearful. Looking at her, the only thing that betrayed a trace of nervousness in her were her flushed cheeks. I smiled, seeing right through her tough act. br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /p 


	19. Ch 19: A Night of Faceless Slaughter

***Rhea's POV***

My hands were sweaty as I drove to school the next morning. For the most part, I had managed to avoid Dylan yesterday by spending my time between classes at the library, although I knew it wouldn't be like that today. I could still remember how his eyes had felt as they weighed down on me while I presented my psychology essay in front of the class the day before. Out of everyone in the room, he was the one I had been most aware of. I couldn't understand why, but he has been having that effect on me ever since Tuesday. I too wondered what he had thought of my speech. Mr. Brown had asked me not to be too explicit with my presentation after I let him know which topic I had chosen, but I quickly forgot about that the moment I started speaking. It was easy for me to get lost into a topic I liked, and I have always found great interest in serial killers and mass murderers and even admired them in my own way, however sick that was.

I arrived at Columbine fifteen minutes before classes were due to start. This time, however, I didn't linger inside my car nor did I feel the need to mentally prepare myself for nothing. I was getting tired of letting people under my skin, and although it was easier said than done, I would at least stop feeling like a retard locked inside my car. I had my knife with me, too. It was buried inside my jean's right pocket, and in a way, it added to my confidence. It was funny how, something I often used to inflict myself harm, was also capable of proffering a sense of security. With that, I got out and walked into the school with a confidence I was decided to retain throughout the day.

As I made my way through the halls to my locker, I could feel several eyes fall over me and heard a few girls laugh. I paid them no mind and continued walking, my eyes forward the entire time. At the distance, I heard someone mutter the words _psycho,_ and this time did look at who had said it. It was a girl I knew by face but not by name. I barely knew any of them by name. She was in my english class and also in my psychology class, and I thought I had seen her before in my bowling class as well, although I wasn't too sure. She glared at me and then turned to her girlfriends with a paper in hand, handing one to each one of them. Before I could wonder what she was handing out, I slammed against someone and fell back to the floor, instigating laughter around me. I quickly picked up my things and looked up to find a jock standing over me. Perfect, just what I needed to start the day.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there," the jock apologized and surprisingly enough stretched a hand at me. "Rhea, was it?"

I got up without his help and continued walking, ignoring the mild pain on my knee from the fall.

"Wait," He said and grabbed me by the shoulder, swirling me around. I winced as he made contact with my bruise and pushed his hand off me.

"What the fuck do you want?" I spat, pissed at the sudden pain. Everyone around me fell silent, and from the corner of my eye, I could still see the girl glaring at me, her glare suddenly feeling more intense.

"I just wanted to apologize for tripping you," The jock said, his eyes wide with feigned innocence. Or at least, I thought it was feigned. I didn't care too much to find out, though.

"Alright, you're forgiven. Now step away," I said, but he continued to block my path with his friends at his sides. If there was something I hated about jocks was how they always seemed to walk around with their minions to intimidate people. I was really getting tired of it. I put my hand into my pocket, tightly grabbing at my knife's handle. I didn't pull it out, though, and I didn't think I would. But it kept me from stepping back in fear and helped me stand my ground.

"I saw how you stood up to Rick the other day," The jock said, and I guessed that he was talking about one of the jocks we had an encounter with back at the commons. I simply looked at him, waiting for him to get to the point. "I just wanted to let you know it was really cool what you did. You know, maybe we can get some coffee at lunch?" As he said this, I saw him look at the girl that was still glaring at us from the corner of his eye and smile, and I finally understood what was going on.

"Piss off," I said and pushed through their human wall, not caring about the pain that shot right through my shoulder. I heard some laughs behind me but didn't look back to see who they were laughing at. It was only five minutes before class began, and I was determined not to arrive late this time.

When I finally got to my locker, I hurried to enter my combination and swung the door open, ready to search for my things when a paper drifted down to my feet from inside my locker. Looking down at it, I kneeled to pick it up and turned it in my hands.

 **Psycho obsessed with murderers, don't get on her bad side.**

Under the text there was a photo of me someone had taken without me noticing with swastikas and guns drawn around. I looked at the paper for a second before crumpling it into a tight ball and throwing it into a trashcan near by. _How creative,_ I thought with disgust. I wanted to look at whomever had done this in the eye and simply ask them what it the world I had done to them. That's all I really wanted, I didn't even care about the paper. It was a lame attempt at getting under my skin. Also quite passive aggressive, so whomever it was who made this papers probably didn't want me to know who she or he was.

The bell rang and I jumped. _Shit!_ I dug for my things and slammed my locker closed before darting to class. Needless to say, I was late. Again.

I arrived breathless to class, and this time, Mr. Adams was not having any more of it.

"Do you enjoy coming late to my class every single day, Ms. Myers?" He asked, his arms crossed over his chest as he eyed me with disappointment. "For that, you and your partner will be presenting first, so hurry to your seat."

I looked at the back of the class and sure enough, Dylan was already there, wearing his black trench coat, a grey shirt and a black backwards cap. Next to him, my empty seat waited for me. I took a breath and began to walk to my seat, everyone's eyes on me not going unnoticed.

"Are psychos always late?" A girl chuckled as I was called a psycho for the second time today. This time, though, I got the reference. I was used to being called freak, weirdo, bitch, you name it. But Psycho, that was a new. I didn't mind it, though. Maybe I was a little psychotic after all, so they weren't that far from the truth after all.

I sat next to Dylan feeling slightly nervous and saw that he had put a paper in my desk. Thinking at first that it was the same paper I had found in my locker, I was relieved when I saw it was actually the story we had written in his house. I looked at him and smiled, feeling slightly guilty for having ignored him the day before.

"Thanks for printing one for me," I said, giving him a nervous smile.

He smiled back. "No worries. You ready?"

I gulped and looked down at the paper in front of me. _A night of faceless slaughter_ was the name we had given our story. Dylan had told me about a story he had been wanting to write down. It was about a man who arrived one night at a town to murder a group of preps, and I had instantly gotten into it. I told him I wanted it to be a man and a woman instead of solely a man who arrived together, both dressed in black faceless silhouettes, like an embodiment of death and nothingness. Together, we had written about the slaughtering of not only preps, but also every soulless men and women that inhabited the dark town. In the story, the slaughtering represented some sort of cleansing. In the end, the man and the woman were the only ones left in the dark, lonely town. And they were happy.

"Don't mind them," Dylan told me as I read our words over and over again in the paper. As he looked at me, it was almost as though he knew what I was thinking. I wondered if he had seen the paper too and looked at him, hoping I would somehow find the answer in his eyes. I did.

"In your locker, too?" I asked with a dry smile.

Dylan nodded. "Whoever did that must've had loads of money to waste it on a bunch of paper."

I chuckled at that. "That's so flattering," I said and he chuckled too.

"I liked your psychology essay," he let me know suddenly, taking me aback. I looked at him with flushed cheeks. "I think you scared the crap out of everyone and that's why they're taking it against you."

"Did I scare you too?" I asked with a smirk, already knowing the answer. I couldn't believe anyone would be the least scared of me. I guess it was because they all feared what they couldn't understand. Yesterday, as I had read my essay, I had spoken with a kind of blood thirst and conviction in my voice that must have left some people feeling uneasy.

"You did," He falsely admitted, smiling down at me. "That's why I won't be getting on your _bad side_."

"That's good," I smiled widely. "You wouldn't want to be on my Shitlist." I quoted my favorite L7 song, not thinking that he would get the reference. As he smiled, though, I could tell he did.

Sitting next to Dylan, I realized how easy it was for me to lose my nervousness and uneasiness around him. I had been dreading seeing him today, and now I realized how stupid that had been. I still felt slightly strange around him, though. But with him I was somehow able to be myself. Perhaps it was because I could tell he didn't judge me the way everyone else did. Or maybe it was because, after having spent so much time with him, I felt like we were similar in a strange way.

"Mr. Klebold and Ms. Myers, I wouldn't want to interrupt your little chat, but should I remind you that this project can and will determine whether you pass or fail my class?" Mr. Adams said and we both turned our attention to him. Hearing him, Dylan rose to his feet without a second thought and walked to the front of the class. I followed his lead, my hands beginning to shake as I went to stand next to him. He most have noticed this as he gave me a reassuring smile.

Without any hesitation or trace of nervousness, Dylan began reading his paper. I followed along with my eyes as his low voice pronounced each word we had written together, and I could feel myself drift back to that moment, when I had sat next to him by the computer as we brought to life the ideas and plot we had created together. Dylan was an amazing story teller, and as I had sat next to him reading what he typed, I fell in love with the amount of detail that so smoothly emerged from his fingers. I could easily tell as well how incredibly eloquent he was, and as we were done typing our story, I couldn't believe what we had brought to life. I could remember thinking that that story ought to become a movie someday.

Dylan paused and I continued reading where he had left off. As I read, I no longer felt nervous. I was too immersed into the story to pay any attention to the room around me. I could picture myself in the story, holding someone's life at point blank, completely at my mercy. In the story, Dylan had described the feeling as god-like, and I now understood what he had meant.

When we were done reading, I looked up at the class, who were completely silent as they stared at us both. I then looked up at Dylan and noticed that he had been looking at me too, his eyes holding something I couldn't quite fathom.

"I'll be having a word with you two after class," Mr Thomas finally said after a moment of silence that had felt way too long to me. "Hand me one of your copies and go back to your seats."

I went to hand him my copy as Dylan returned to his seat. It wasn't until now that I realized our story was not per se school appropriate, but even then I didn't really care. People at school already thought I was a psycho, but to me, they were worse than that. They were all a bunch of faceless pigs.


	20. Ch 20: Guilty

p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="f366809b97ba99ddc73f377298fe77d3"span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: bold;"*Rhea's POV*/span/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="d41d8cd98f00b204e9800998ecf8427e" /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="2489ebc1ed3bc2ae0d8b0655a735606b""The story is terrifically well written," Mr. Adams began, holding our assignment in his hands as he sat on his desk. Dylan and I were the only ones left in his class, and as Mr. Adams looked down at our paper, making some quick corrections and notes, Dylan stood leaning against the white board and I stood nervously in front of Mr. Adam's desk. "I can't say I don't have a problem with it, though." /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="180b29553c9eab8af5e505c93ecb2584"Dylan, unlike me, looked completely unruffled. I, on the other hand, knew I couldn't afford any trouble at school. For weeks, I have been trying to get my grades up in order to end my Senior year well. I didn't really find my classes challenging, but for a few months, I had simply stopped giving a care about my grades. Unlike my previous high school years where my grades had often gotten me to honor roll, my grades now were pretty much rock bottom. I was managing to pick them up, though, which was why I really didn't want Mr. Adams to fail us simply because of the crudeness of our story. /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="cc049616b03cdb45601007925694c366"Mr. Adams looked at me as if expecting me to give him some sort of explanation or maybe even a reason not to have a problem with our story. I said nothing, feeling unable to reassure him. /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="38856fa092ffbb30cd7f043223dc1cf2""I wanted to ask you two," he continued, eyeing Dylan. "Who were these characters you wrote about in your stories? Because as you read it, I think we all had a feeling that they were somehow personifications of you two." /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="c4243ccfdbd99fc9c1e4a169a750f7ee"My eyes flew up at Dylan at that. I did remember feeling connected to the female character of our story during our presentation, but I never really thought about it too much. Had we really gave life to something that was usually buried within us? Were our characters really supposed to be some sort of representation of our personas? No, of course not. Mr. Adams was really exaggerating things now. /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="a159b7445f24f15b3a576266f144381c""It's only a story, sir," Dylan said nonchalantly, reassuring my thoughts. /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="58d3750982a284f8e7a1a0f1863801a2""With all due respect," I jumped in, feeling a need to defend our positions. "Boundaries were never specified for this assignment, sir."/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="b75d5ed9cabe490b4a875ccb2595312b""That's true," Mr. Adams agreed. "But just because I don't specify that you cannot bring guns for my assignment, doesn't mean it's not obviously implied. This story was not school appropriate, or else we wouldn't be having this talk, would we?"/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="550b7e90f72caeab93dbd6229daaaf76"I really hated Mr. Adams in that moment. The way he was comparing apples with oranges was simply sickening. It's not like we harmed anyone in the making of our creative writing. /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="700af332c99ec864735f85cb43fc2fb2""We're sorry if we caused any disturbance," Dylan apologised before I could say anything. I looked at him in disbelief. How could he be apologising when we did absolutely nothing wrong?/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="3375fc397dbbdade7faea5da457ba1fc"Mr. Adams sighed. "I'll tell you what we'll do. Despite everything, I do believe you two did an outstanding job, so I won't fail you two. As a matter of fact, I'll give this the grade it deserves. However," I fought the urge to roll my eyes at his irritating pause. Mr. Adams then looked me straight in the eyes. "I em style="box-sizing: border-box;"will/em be having a talk with both of your parents, and I will be having the school counselor take a look at your work. Only then will we see if any further actions should be taken. Have I made myself clear?" /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="7b6bd7c2a8eb21e9d3c15b03066209d3""Yes, Mr. Adams," I said, sounding annoyed. /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="6f2417de7000ebda37ede46fb64f407a"He didn't seem to mind. "Klebold?" /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="ba6e32b0a8ecca821c5bd0c1696a5fc4""Yes, sir," He said, still not seeming the least bothered by any of this. /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="8c6b86734b5769dcd7743b5110923963""Alright then, you two are dismissed," Mr. Adams concluded, putting our paper over the pile of paper in his desk. /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="faf357ec5bc466ab8d6048f2c1afb5d8""One more thing, since we're talking about school appropriate," Dylan said just as I was ready to leave the room. Both Mr. Adams and I looked at him as he dug inside his backpack, searching for something. He then pulled out a pice of paper and placed it a little too harshly over Mr. Adams desk, right in front of him. "I'm guessing you've seen this already. I think maybe you should show it to the school's counselor too, to see if she finds it em style="box-sizing: border-box;"school/em-em style="box-sizing: border-box;"appropriate/em as well." /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="4e9f15de1cb4a05deaeacbb6e76e7e0d"Without another word, Dylan turned about and left the room, not looking at either of us. I simply stood there dumbfounded, looking down at my picture in the paper with the same text I had read before. I hadn't known Dylan had been keeping one in his backpack, and wondered what his intention had been. Mr. Adams then looked up at me with guilt in his eyes but didn't say anything. Just then realised why Dylan had done what he did./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="a7c45279d74c79c0d24bcbda3e9e6d79""I need to get to my next class," I excused myself and left without waiting another second, not wanting to see more of Mr. Adam's face. em style="box-sizing: border-box;"They're all the same,/em I thought. Even teachers are. /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="19f1cd463338bd0bc69ba58d3ff284b0"As I made my way to my next class, I looked around for Dylan, but he was nowhere to be seen. At the distance, I saw a group of jocks walking toward my way, and almost felt myself go sick when I saw both Rick and the same jock from the morning. To my luck, however, I saw Chad and quickly made my way to him, overlocking our arms in a lame attempt to avoid the jocks. /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="f3a419ab67fdf296a5b36588500f2035""Rhea!" Chad greeted me as he noticed me next to him and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, seeming careful with my right shoulder. "I hadn't seen you since Tuesday, how is your shoulder doing?" /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="cd0c859e054afd54e1c0ac5d2e0ebb5b""My shoulder?" I asked, but then realised Dylan must have told his friends about how I bruised my shoulder. It didn't bother me, though. "Oh it's doing better. I guess it wasn't my smartest move to shoot too much as a novice." /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="d2b5fda4e3bb4d434093086af8d4f697"Chad chuckled. "Oh don't feel like that. Believe me, we've been doing it for a while and still get hurt sometimes. That's why we make sure to wear heavier clothes." /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="809487e9ce1682b0cc4bafbe96d832a4"As we were talking, I noticed the Jocks looking our way and finally walking to us. Chad must have noticed it too as I could feel his muscles go tense, making me feel guilty for dragging him into whatever was about to unfold. /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="ee0a34e5d470ac27b9af93efffd49cb7""Hey, Rhea," Rick greeted me with dark sarcasm in his voice. "Michael told me you two'd be having coffee at lunch. You won't stand him up, will you?" /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="6bd99f05b0138f07a51439b08a888699""I'll see you at lunch," I told Chad, lightly pushing him away. Instead of leaving, however, he stood his ground next to me and wrapped his arm tighter around me. /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="fbb67264825e7aeb38204574eb3578ba"I sighed. "I don't really like coffee," I told them, although even if I did I knew there was absolutely no way I'd be having coffee with any of them. "As a matter of fact, I think I'll be having some em style="box-sizing: border-box;"hot/em em style="box-sizing: border-box;"soup/em at lunch." At this, I could see Rick narrow his eyes at me. Seeing the chance, I grabbed Chad by the arm and dragged him away from the jocks, sighing in relief once we left them behind. /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="6fc327af0b1ccd8ab5229e9e6f727f68""You should be careful when provoking them," Chad warned me, trying to sound serious but unable to hold back a laugh. "That was great, though. You've really got some guts, Rhea, I'll give you that." /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="b88a3863406a8d799ab2bb745e28ace6""Thanks," I smiled, but I knew inside that he had it all wrong. If there was something I was terrible at, were confrontations. A few days ago I wouldn't have ever thought myself capable of standing up to someone like Rick or any jock for that matter. And it although I had done it now two times, I knew it wasn't because I was braver than before. I was simply feigning bravery, when in reality I always shook inside whenever it happened. Feeling my knife in my pocket helped, too, just as it did having someone next to me. Still, I knew that if someone like Rick and I were to ever fight one on one, I'd be doomed, and that was a knowledge that always kept me fearful of them. /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="ba59df100f7aa7a777652f8ab7861939""See you at lunch, Rhea. You'll be sitting with us today, right?" Chad asked, and I didn't know what to answer. At lunch, I was used to eating within the confines of my car, with no one around to bother me. Even though I liked Chad and his friends, I still didn't feel welcome there. The last thing I wanted was to be a burden to them. I hated feeling like that. /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="92a627ecbe791efa7b6c4f09cb63dd50"Chad must have seen the hesitancy in my eyes, for he then placed a hand over my uninjured shoulder. "I'll have to ask Dylan to invite you then." /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="e31bb08293a4b0049e5101182013f807""What are you insinuating?" I punched him lightly on the arm and he laughed. "Fine, I'll be there, but don't you dare do that."/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="42e1555fe706e3ae9567baceae616a3c"Chad laughed even more at that. "I won't, I promise. And anyway, I'm sure he will when he sees you." He gave me a pat on my head and then left, still laughing. I narrowed my eyes at him as I saw him walk away, although I couldn't help but wonder what he meant. I didn't see why Dylan would want me having lunch with them. Sure, we were no longer strangers, but we weren't close friends either. Not wanting to dwell too much in the hall, I quickly made my way to my next class, not sure whether I'd really find the courage to meet them at the commons at lunch. /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="26478db11a74b3c8675f463fee30cba7" /p 


End file.
